


Little Crow

by brightlikeloulou



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Castle Black, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Protective!Tormund, Slow(ish) Burn, Tormund doesn't like it when Jon gets cold, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19089907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlikeloulou/pseuds/brightlikeloulou
Summary: Jon knew he wouldn't be happy serving as a brother of the Night's Watch for the rest of his life, he also knew that he wouldn't be happy being King of The North either. He decides to follow Tormund beyond the wall and become a wildling, knowing that being a free man could bring him at least some form of happiness.Tormund's happy to have his little crow with him, and he takes it upon himself to be the one to look after Jon, from helping keep him warm, to being there to listen when he wanted to open up.Little does Jon know, Tormund feels more than companionship for him, and begins to court him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was very underwhelmed by season 8 of GOT, but it fuelled my love for these two!
> 
> Also, I sincerely apologise for the very uncreative title. 
> 
> And while there currently isn't any sexual content, there definitely will be in future!

Guilt burned inside of Jon's stomach whenever he caught sight of the empty space where Ghost's right ear should have sat. He'd lost it during the battle of Winterfell, and Jon had to admit he was grateful that all Ghost had lost was an ear. Nobody was expecting to survive that battle against the White Walkers, and many hadn't, Jon especially expected to find Ghost either dead or having been forced into a part of the army by the Night King. Jon had been proved wrong, and the beast had trotted up to him as the smoke began to settle.

He ran his hand through Ghost's thick white fur, leaning against him and letting out a shaky breath as he sought warmth from the wolf. He'd be warmer if he were inside, he knew that, but outside was what he wanted right now. It was somewhere around midnight he had to guess, late enough for it to be pitch black other than the yellow light of lanterns and fire, and mostly silent apart from those on guard at the gates.

He'd murdered Daenerys, fully expecting to be killed for his actions. Once again proved wrong, he was banished from the kingdoms where he was to serve as a man of the Night's Watch, for however long he had left to live. A miserable life, but he figured it was more than being killed. So, he'd willingly left what remained of King's Landing, leaving Bran as the King of the Six Kingdoms, Sansa as Queen of The North, and Arya to spend her foreseeable days exploring what laid beyond the maps.

He liked Arya's plan best. He was almost tempted to go with her, but he knew that would bring danger to her as well as him. The one thing that made him smile was when he thought of Sam, his best friend, who'd gotten the life he always wanted; Grand Maester for Bran, married to the woman he loved, a son, and another child on the way. Jon knew that he deserved it, more than anyone, Sam deserved it.

Arriving at Castle Black earlier in the day, he'd been given the signature 'crow coat' as a sign of his membership as a brother, and he'd been reunited with his wolf, along with the Wildlings that had become loyal to him. The wildlings, led by Tormund, would be returning North of the wall when the sun rose in the morning, desiring to be free again.

Jon sighed and leaned against Ghost further, feeling him sniff against his head, and he stretched his legs further out towards the fire that burned in front of him; his toes cold inside of his boots. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his wolf; he could still smell a hint of smoke on his fur.

"Little crow,"

He jumped at the sound of the deep voice, and his eyes sprung open. He knew who it was just by the nickname, so he shouldn't have been scared, but he'd been on edge for months. Too many wars fought, too many injuries, too much pain. Too many friends dead.

"Fuck, boy, not like I slapped you," Tormund rumbled, standing on the other side of the fire, dressed in his signature furs and his hands stretched out towards the fire, warming them.

Jon let out a breath, not moving from where he was curled against Ghost, the wolf seeming to be falling asleep, "Didn't hear you come," he said.

Tormund huffed a laugh, "What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked, "You got a nice warm bed, and you're sitting out here in this freezing as shit wind?"

Jon sighed, looking into the flames of the fire, "Needed time to think," he replied.

"Couldn't have done that inside?"

"Apparently not," Jon mumbled, shaking a little beneath his layers of clothes as the chill settled into his skin.

Tormund hummed and moved around the fire, sitting down beside him after a moment, right against him, their bodies pressing together. It was close, but it was more warmth, and Jon couldn't bring himself to care; he'd let himself enjoy the warmer temperatures of King's Landing far too much.

"You know, I get that," Tormund began, stretching his leg out so that it was pressed against Jon's too, "Even North of the wall, when you're never really enclosed, I can't think properly inside a tent,"

Jon huffed, finally starting to feel Tormund's warmth seep through his clothes, "When I was a boy, back when Winterfell was my home, I always went into the woods. There was a big tree, and I'd climb right to the top, could see a lot from up there," he told the wildling, and then there was an arm pressing against his back as Tormund reached around him to run his hand up and down Ghost's back.

"I can imagine that, little dire wolf pup sitting at the bottom of the tree, barking up at you,"

Jon managed a small smile, "He did," he started, "Every time, without fail. He was the runt of the six we found, so he was a wee little thing, but fuck he was a tough shit,"

Tormund let out a gruff laugh, "How the bloody hell did you find six dire wolves as far South as Winterfell?" he asked, shaking his head at the thought of it.

Jon sighed, thinking back to the day seven years earlier, "Me, Robb, and Bran, we watched my father execute a man who'd deserted his ranger group beyond the wall, claiming he saw White Walkers…" he trailed off a little, realizing that the man would have been innocent of his crime.

"Back then no one would have believed it," Tormund sighed a little, his hand stopped rubbing Ghost's back, and inside curled around Jon's side. Jon leaned into it.

"After, we were in the woods, came across a dead dire wolf, and then five pups laying against her. My father was going to kill them out of mercy, so they wouldn't slowly starve to death, Bran and I convinced him otherwise," Jon remembered the day, how Bran had smiled wide and cradled his pup to his chest, "Just as we were leaving, heard more whimpering from down behind some rocks, and there was Ghost, so small he'd gotten stuck because he couldn't climb over them,"  
  
Tormund listened to his story intently, his warm breath fluttering over Jon's face, "Seems, that the runt, was the only one to make it,"

Jon frowned and nodded, "Well except for Nymeria, she was Arya's," he said, thinking of how Arya had told him the story of her travels, and had come across the wolf in the woods, a leader of a pack, and had spared her, "She let her go to save her, she's wild in the woods now,"

Tormund nodded, "I'd say that's how they should be, but Ghost bloody born to be at your side,"

Jon smiled again, and rubbed his hand against Ghost, "He was," he said, and lifted his head to look at Tormund, found the man's head closer than he thought it would have been, "Thank you for taking care of him,"

Tormund smiled, and Jon almost jumped when he squeezed his side, "Trust me when I say, getting to have a dire wolf at my side, without it wanting to kill me, is a fucking honor," he told him, eyebrows raised.

Jon snorted a laugh and shook his head, leaning back against Ghost again, "I hope you have safe travels in the morning," he said after a few minutes of silence, "I'll never be able to repay you for the loyalty you've given me,"

Tormund was quiet for a moment, "I will never be able to repay you for saving my people, for giving us the opportunity to gain the respect of those South of the wall," he replied, "You may have been banished here Jon snow, but I know it'll kill you,"

Jon's lips turned in a frown, and he looked to Tormund, "Refusing to come here would have killed me," he told the redhead, noticing that his cheeks were flushed red from the cold, "Being honest, given the chance to stay, I don't think I would have,"

"You don't have to live out your miserable life here," Tormund sighed, "You may have been banished to Castle Black, but I don't think they would care if you went South of the wall,"

Jon looked at him, icy blue eyes that stared into his own dark ones, "Why would I be any better off out there than here?" he asked, and the idea sounded ridiculous to his ears.

Tormund almost smirked at him, "Well, little crow, North of the Wall, you are a free man," he replied.

Jon's lips parted as he looked up at him.

 

* * *

 

Jon didn't really feel anything as he rode out of the gate early the next morning, his horse steady beneath him, Ghost running ahead of him, and Tormund riding beside him.

Tormund had been right, while living in an endless white wasteland wasn't exactly how he envisioned his life to be, his time as a King, had shown him what it was like to be a free man, and he couldn't go back to being a brother of the Night's Watch, Tormund's mention of the freedom he could have North of the Wall, was too much for him to resist.

He said his goodbyes to the brothers, and he knew he'd be seeing them again. The new mutual respect and truce between the wildlings and those South of the wall, caused there to no longer be a need for the wildlings to estrange themselves from the rest of the world completely, they were welcomed to return to Castle Black, and had been given the options to travel to Winterfell if they desired a different life; only a few had gone. They'd taken Ravens with them too so that they could report back to Castle Black, and they could report to them. What would be particularly helpful, was that they now had access to the Maester of Castle Black, in the event someone needed more serious medical attention.

Jon could feel eyes on him, so he turned his head to look at Tormund, who sure enough, was staring at him, a frown beneath his red beard.

"What?" Jon asked, and he could hear the rest of the wildlings emerging through the gate behind them, chattering among themselves as they braced themselves against the cold.

Tormund stared at him for several long moments, his look was so intense that Jon felt as if the man was almost staring into his soul, and it made his heart thump in his chest. Tormund's lips pulled in a smile then, "Welcome home, little crow," he told him, his breath visible in the cold morning hair.

Jon looked away from him, and instead to the white mass in front of him, the trees slowly getting closer as they pushed on, "Appealing isn't it?" He huffed, his eyes flickering to Ghost who was a good way ahead of them now, sniffing at the snow-covered ground as he trotted along.

Tormund laughed and pushed his horse so that he rode closer to Jon, "To me Jon Snow, it's one of the most beautiful bloody things in the world," he told him, reaching out to slap his shoulder.

Jon rolled his eyes, but he smiled a little at his enthusiasm, "Oh yeah? And what's more beautiful than this endless white wilderness?" he asked, trying to lighten his mood a little.

Tormund smirked, "Well," he started, and his large hand, to Jon's surprise, was suddenly cupping his cheek, "That would have to be your pretty face, my little crow!" he said, and then laughed madly before gathering his horse's reins and cantering ahead, no doubt to scout ahead to make sure there were no dangers.

Jon watched him go, a small grin on his lips that he couldn't stop, and he thought that maybe, he could come to love the True North.

 

* * *

 

"Alright," Tormund huffed, coming to a stop beside Jon, who'd just finished setting up a tent for a pregnant wildling, Anelda, who he'd seen struggling to put it up herself while also trying to watch her young son.

Jon stood straight and faced him, found the chief looking around at the group of wildlings who'd set up camp for the night in a large clearing in the woods, "Alright what?" Jon asked.

Tormund looked at him, grabbed both of his shoulders, and shook him, "Alright, we're done!" he told him, "Tents have been set up, fires lit, food eaten," he said.

"Good observation," Jon replied, smiling a little as he watched a wildling child crawl over Ghost, who was laying in the snow and attempting to sleep after their long day of travel.

Tormund rolled his eyes, and shook him again, "Rude shit," he said, and then let go of him, only to slap him on the shoulder, "Now, come on, you're staying in my tent with me," he told him, and then turned and began to walk through the mass of tents and people.

Jon turned to Anelda, who had caught her son and was ushering him inside of the tent, "Can I help with anything else?" he asked, knowing that her husband was moving around the camp managing fires.

She shook her head, long dark hair falling in front of her eyes, "No," she told him, "Thank you, Jon. Now best you go after Tormund, don't keep him waiting,"

Jon nodded, and smiled at her and her son, who he didn't know the name of, and then jogged after Tormund. His bright red hair made him easy to spot in the crowd, and he slowed when he reached him, "Why am I sharing a tent with you?" he asked the older man, "It was my understanding you preferred to share your tent with women,"

Tormund laughed, slapping Jon's shoulder, and then wrapping that arm around his lower back to lead him towards a tent, "While that used to be the case," he started, and Jon noticed what tent must be theirs as the two horse they had ridden were tied up outside it, "I'm worried about you and your Southern ass freezing to death if you have your own tent, and sharing a tent with you, means sharing a tent with the large living furnace,"

Jon rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder to where Ghost was now stood up and entertaining the children, "Do I get a say in this?" he asked as they reached the tent.

"I could leave you to sleep in a bed of snow if you'd rather," Tormund replied, and then promptly placed both hands on Jon's upper back and shoved him through the flaps on the tent.

Jon fell face first down onto the mass of pelts and blankets and groaned. He could hear Tormund entering behind him, and he rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows so that he could look up at the older man, "Do you fucking mind?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Tormund looked back at him as he tugged off his boots, "Mind what?" he grunted, and quickly got the boots off before flopping down beside Jon.

Jon rolled his eyes at the man's ignorance, "Next time, I'm capable of getting into a tent myself," he told him as he removed his sword from his side, and then lifted up the mass of pelts and crawled under them, needing to feel the warming weight of them on top of him. Looking around, he noticed that Tormund had already brought his pack in and it was sitting in the corner of the tent where the small lantern was.

"That so, little crow?" Tormund replied, not at all sounding interested as he got under the pelts with him.

Jon grunted as an arm was suddenly shoved under his torso, grabbing his waist, and then pulling him over so that he collided with Tormund's body, "What are you doing?" he grunted, taken aback by the sudden closeness and attempting to squirm away.

Tormund sighed, "If you're afraid of a little snuggling, it's gonna be a long and cold life for you out here, pup," he told him.

Jon frowned, but he was already feeling warmer under the pelts with Tormund's body heat seeping against him, so he just let out a loud huff, but lowered his head again, his forehead pressed against where the redhead's ribs would be under his many layers.

"Call that wolf of yours in," Tormund said after a few minutes, eyes closed.

"He'll be in when he wants. He'll smell me," Jon replied, knowing that Ghost would spend some time hunting or sniffing out the area before he rested.

"I want the furnace I was promised," Tormund replied.

Jon rolled his eyes, "You know when he comes in, he'll lay down by me anyway," he told the man, patting the space on the belts beside him that was empty.

"I can reach over you," Tormund answered, and then shifted, his arm around Jon tightening and sliding down his back just a little, "Now, tell me another one of your stories, from when you were in Winterfell, not something depressing about the wars,"

"Why?" Jon asked, confused as to why the man would be interested in such a thing.

"I like falling asleep to a story, reminds me of my mother," Tormund explained.

Jon felt surprised, and looked up to the older man, waiting to see if he was going to tell him he was joking, when nothing like that came, he cleared his throat, "When I was maybe nine or ten," he started, "Me and Robb, we were being stupid, as little boys would, and we stole some cakes and pastries from the kitchens, ran away into the woods to eat them. We stuffed ourselves full, giggling the whole time, talking about how nobody would be smart enough to catch us. We stayed out there for a few hours, exploring, it was Summer then, so we went swimming in the rivers, tried to catch the fish," he smiled sadly he thought of the fun times he had with his older brother, a time when things were simpler.

"He was your older brother, yeah? The first Stark King of the North; The Young Wolf?" Tormund asked quietly.

Jon nodded, his forehead brushing against him, "Yeah, the one who got his head cut off, and his wolf's put in its place," he replied, and he could feel the anger bubbling in his stomach as he thought of the way his brother's memory had been disgraced, and angry at himself for not being there to help him fight his battles.

Tormund sighed, "I thought I told you no depressing war stories,"

Jon huffed and blinked away the tears springing in his eyes; he didn't need Tormund to see that. He sucked in a breath and decided to continue to the story that Tormund had requested, "We decided to head back to the Castle an hour or so before dark, and it didn't take us long to realize we had no idea how to get back, completely lost. We tried to find our way back for a while, but we gave up. We got so scared and upset, we just sat down and cried, Robb even threw up all the food we'd stolen," he recalled, laughing as he remembered the way his brother's face had gone pale before he leaned over a nearby tree and emptied his stomach, "Of course our father and uncle found us before the sun went down, put us on the back of their horses and banned us from going outside of the Castle for two weeks,"

Tormund huffed a laugh with him, and slapped him on the back, "Sounds like little crow was a trouble maker, even when he was a tiny crow,"

Jon could see the smirk on the older man's face, and he rolled his eyes, "Oh fuck off," he growled.

Tormund only laughed louder, his head thrown back with it, "Feisty little crow," he said.

Jon groaned and attempted to roll away from him, but Tormund's strong arm stopped him from going far, "I regret this already," he mumbled, finally feeling the exhaustion begin to settle into his body.

Tormund rumbled a final soft huff of a laugh before settling again, "Jon Snow, you may be a wildling now, your brother and sister as the King and Queen, but you'll always be my King," he told him after being quiet for a moment.

Jon didn't know how he felt about that, and he didn't know how to respond to it. He thought of how he'd learned who his real birth parents were, that he was born a Targaryen and that he'd had a strong claim to the Iron Throne before Drogon had brunt it down and the decision was made that Kings would no longer be born, instead chosen. He thought of what he could have had, and how much he didn't want it.

He thought of Daenerys and how he'd felt the life leave her body and he stabbed her, how she looked up at him with eyes filled with betrayal and surprise, how his own had filled with tears as he sobbed softly.

There was a sudden movement from the entrance of the tent, and Jon watched as Ghost emerged through it. Jon felt relief and comfort at the sight of him, feeling a pang of guilt when his eyes fell on his missing ear, and he reached his hand out for the wolf. Ghost rubbed his head against his hand and then laid down behind him.

Jon sighed kept a hand on Ghost, brushing it through his fur, hoping that Ghost knew how much he appreciated him, and a small smile pulled at his lips as he watched the beast's red eyes flutter closed.

Tormund got his attention again, his warm breath fluttering over his face as he spoke, "Sleep, my little crow," he told him, his voice as gentle as Jon had ever heard it, "Another long day tomorrow,"

Jon sighed deeply but did as he was told and closed his eyes; hoping that he'd have a deep, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wildlings push on with their travels, Jon continues to share a tent with Tormund, and Tormund flirts crudely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm amazed! The amount of hits and kudos this already has is amazing! Thank y'all so much for reading it, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Jon woke alone the following morning, both Tormund and Ghost having already left the tent. He reached his hand out and spread it over the space that Tormund had slept on, to see if there was any warmth behind. He frowned when he founded none, meaning that Tormund had gone for at least a little while.

He sat up beneath the pile of pelts and blankets, the furs pooling at his hips. He ran his hands through his dark curls, hoping to smooth them down a bit after sleeping all night. He still felt exhaustion seeped into his bones, and he wished that he could just lay back down and rest for a few more hours, but if Tormund and Ghost were gone, that meant the sun had risen, and it was time to start the day.

He stood up in an awkward crouched position in the tent and grabbed his sword and attached it to himself before he stepped through the flaps of the tent. He almost flushed when he saw that nearly all of the camp was packed up, the only few tents that remained standing, were in the process of being pulled down, and he'd slept soundly while everyone else did the chores.

He suspected it to be the work of Tormund, telling the others not to wake him, something that wasn't necessary. He petted the rump of his horse, who was tied and tacked beside the tent, ready to go, and Tormund's already gone. He looked around the camp and didn't see the redhead or Ghost anywhere, so he headed to his next best choice, Anelda, who was putting out a fire while her half-asleep son sat on a log, munching on an apple (as gifts for their loyalty during the wars, the Wildlings had been given a bump in supplies to help them survive the winter).

"Anelda," he said as he approached her, and she turned to him at the sound of her name, smiling softly.

"Jon Snow," she replied.

"Tormund, Ghost, where are they?" he asked her, noticing that out of the corner of his someone was placing his pack down beside his horse, while another got started on taking down his tent.

"Scouting ahead," Anelda replied, hiding her hands under one of the many furs she was wearing, her cheeks pink from the cold.

"How long ago did they leave?" he asked, staring idly at the end of the clearing, wondering if he could catch up to them.

"Just as the sun started to rise, two hours ago. We're to finishing packing and continue to head North, and they'll circle back to us," She explained, squatting down in front of her little boy and adjusting the deer pelt hung around his shoulders, "Tormund's commanded for you lead when we head off,"

Jon nodded, not surprised; he knew that Tormund trusted him with his people, "Okay, we'll finish packing everything away, and then we'll leave," he told her.

She nodded in agreement, and Jon headed off again, wanting to check on everyone else and help where he could.

It was barely fifteen minutes later, and they were off again, Jon seated on his horse, who he called Argo, and the rest of the wildlings following behind him. He realized that he much preferred when he had Tormund riding at his side. Though these people were undoubtedly loyal to him, he didn't exactly feel comfortable leading them now that he was one of them. He hadn't earned that yet.

He had no idea where Tormund was leading the clan, just how far North he planned on taking them. Jon couldn't even bring himself to care at that point, he was just pleased that he didn't have to be the one making any significant decisions like he'd had to do so many times during the wars. Decisions that he continuously second guessed now that the wars were, that maybe if he did something different, fewer people would have died, perhaps he wouldn't have had to kill so many people.

He might have been able to stop Daenerys before she burnt down King's landing, he might not have had to kill her.

 

* * *

 

"Did you tell them not to wake me?" Jon asked Tormund a few minutes after the man had returned, the pair now riding at the head of the clan.

Tormund met his eyes, and Jon's eyes flickered to where the specks of snow and ice were stuck to his thick beard, "Yes, why?" he replied, directing his horse to walk around a fallen log, despite how eager the horse seemed to move into a trot and jump over it.

"It's not fair on them," Jon replied, looking away from the other man and looking at the trees in front of him instead, wondering when Ghost would appear through them; Tormund had returned without Ghost, saying that the wolf had left him once they were within hearing range of the clan, and disappeared further into the trees to hunt.

"What are you talking about?" Tormund grunted, relaxing back in his saddle.

"That I got to continue sleeping while they were all up getting ready to leave, my horse already tacked for me, and then someone immediately putting down my tent for me," He explained, hearing the frustration in his own voice when he spoke.

"Well, I don't bloody know how they did it back at Castle Black or Winterfell, Jon Snow, but out here it's give and take. You see someone who needs an extra hand, you give 'em one, and you let them do the same for you," Tormund told him, moving his horse closer, so that he was right beside Jon, his head tilted so that he could look him in the eyes, "You've had a rough fuckin' couple of days, so I told them to let you have a break, and maybe if I've had a rough couple of days, you get up and leave me to sleep while you do the scout ahead," his voice was harsh, like he was determined to get the message through Jon's head, "You get it?"

Jon noticed just how piercing the man's eyes were as he looked into them, a deep blue. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to nod, "Yeah, I get it," he confirmed softly.

Tormund smiled then, "Good," he said, slapping Jon on the shoulder, "Not to worry, my little crow, you'll catch onto the ways of the Free Folk soon enough," he told him, his voice cheerful and his breath cold as it hit Jon's face.

Jon's lips quirked a little, "You better help me learn," he told him.

Tormund's broadened beneath his fiery red beard, "That I will do, Jon Snow," he said, squeezed his arm and then moved his horse a foot or so away, "Now, off to a new home,"

"Where are we going?" he asked the chief, tearing his eyes from him and looking ahead again, hearing the sound of children laughing and playing as they walked behind them.

"A new home," Tormund repeated bluntly.

Jon rolled his eyes, "Where exactly is that new home?" he asked, trying to ignore the way the harsh wind was creeping through the gaps of his layers, prickling his skin as his fingers stiffened.

"The Caminhedra Plains," Tormund replied, sighing happily and looking up at the sky above him, a smile playing on his lips as delicate snowflakes fell onto his pale face, "Absolutely gorgeous, those are, my little crow,"

Jon liked the excitement he could see on the older man, "Tell me about them," he told him.

"Not far from here, a few more days, I picked 'em because they'd keep us close to the wall, which we'd need with the new trading agreements," Tormund began, and he urged his horse closer to Jon again, so he didn't have to try and shout over the wind, "They're named after the woman that discovered them hundreds of years ago. Clans have stayed there on and off, we did for a while when I was a boy,"

"If clans have lived there before," Jon started, Tormund's shoulder knocking against his own, "Does that mean the remains of old villages could still be there?" he asked, the winter was harsh, and they could use all the help they'd get when it came to constructing a new village.

Tormund nodded, "Aye. Nothing stands completely, but the shells of huts and cabins remain, wouldn't take long to repair. A good start," he explained to, gesturing with his hands as he got excited, "There's a river from here in the woods, that runs through the plains and into a lake, lots of good fish in that lake under the ice, and I do love some fish," the redhead's grin was wide as he spoke, and Jon couldn't stop his small smile.

"I like fish," Jon told him. He hadn't had it in years, not since his last feast at Winterfell, but he still remembered how good it tasted.

Tormund grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide with excitement, "I'll catch us some and cook it up, make us a feast as big as those you had back in Winterfell," he said, and while Jon knew that wasn't possible, he still appreciated the thought, "We'll even see if Ghost will have some,"

"Ghost will eat anything," Jon reminded him, wondering what the wolf was more than likely eating at that moment.

"Aye, he would, wouldn't he?" Tormund replied, those blue eyes once again piercing into Jon's, "But fish, he'll love that in another way," he said.

Jon laughed, a sound he rarely heard himself make, "These are big promises you're making Tormund, you reckon you can keep them?" he asked the ginger, one of his eyebrows raised up towards his hairline.

Tormund nodded enthusiastically, squeezing Jon's shoulder harder instead of just holding it like he had been, "I can, pup," he assured him, "And I'll make you a couple more,"

"Like what?" Jon replied, his smile beginning to meet his eyes now, he could feel the cold air drying the dampness of inside his mouth.

"The chief's cabin, I remember looking at it when I was a little boy, how nice it was and that I was going to be a chief one day so that I could live in a cabin like that," He told Jon, and Jon was filled with a want to know more about Tormund's childhood, if the things he got up to were more mischievous than what he and Robb would do. Both sadness and happiness came with the memories, "You're going to stay in that cabin with me like you do in my tent, and we're going to spend our nights eating fish and drinking until we're fat, keeping you warm, and telling stories, I know you must have thousands,"

It was a nice idea, Jon thought, letting his mind envision it. Soft lights of lanterns, Ghost asleep in the corner on his own bed, a fire crackling away, the two of them laughing as they ate their fish and told the stories that Tormund was so desperate to hear. Jon wondered if that would be his happiness; if he would find it like his siblings had. Thinking of them sent a pang to his stomach, and he didn't notice that his smile was fading from his face. He'd spent years without seeing them, reunited with them during a way, only to be forced away from them again.

Tormund's voice was soft when he spoke again, drawing Jon from his thoughts, "What's wrong, my little crow? Don't you like the sound of that?" he asked him, his hand having traveled from his shoulder to his cheek.

Jon sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, "No, I do," he assured the redheaded man who had been looking quite disappointed. Tormund immediately seemed relieved, but remained concerned as he looked down at Jon.

"Why do you look so upset then, little crow?" he asked, the thumb on his cheek moving back and forth in gentle lines,

Jon huffed at himself, looking into Tormund's eyes again, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I just started thinking about Sansa, Bran, and Arya," he tried to explain without having to go into much detail, because he couldn't handle that without crying, and he didn't want to do that in front of Tormund, let alone the entire clan of wildlings.

"Alright, little crow," he replied, being able to realize that Jon didn't want to talk about his siblings at that moment. Tormund patted his cheek softly before dropping his hand and grabbing his reins again and pushing his horse a couple of feet over; the wind was picking up now, snow starting to fall heavier. They needed to be more focused on their riding and keeping a straight path than talking.

Jon forced himself to give the man a smile and then turned his head so that he was facing what was ahead of him again, dense trees and bright white snow.

The rest of his life was still going to be snow, but not just because it was his last name anymore.

 

* * *

  

The night was even colder than the last. The wind howled as it made its way through their camp, keeping the fires burning and scattering the sparks so severely that several wildlings had to guard them to make sure they didn't catch the tents on fire. The snow was still falling, and the wildlings were all huddled together in their tents, mothers holding babies and children to their chests, hiding their tiny faces from the cold.

It had taken hours for Jon to fall asleep, he'd been far too cold, even though he was laid with his front completely pressed against Ghost's thick fur, and Tormund's warm body behind him, his arm wrapped tight around him and his hot breath fanning over his neck.

It was the pure exhaustion he felt that finally lulled him into a sleep, a restless sleep.

_The boy looked down at him as Jon collapsed to the ground, his young face filled with anger as he stared down at him, a knife in his pale hand. Jon knew he was mad and felt betrayed that Jon was offering a place to stay for Tormund and the Wildlings, but he didn't think he was angry enough to do this._

_"Olly," Jon whimpered, the burning pain of the stab wounds in his chest and stomach spreading through his body. His breathing began to shorten, and he desperately tried to continue sucking the cold air into his lungs._

_Olly's face didn't soften, not even in the slightest, and he took a step forward, leaning down and plunging his knife into Jon's body._

_He let out a choked gasp, staring up into the eyes of the boys, realizing that this was how he was going to die, betrayed by those who were supposed to give him their loyalty._

He gasped himself awake, lurching forward into a mass of white fur and his body trembling. He was being restrained, and he began to thrash, and he swore he could still feel the dull ache of the scarres that marked his body. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, images of his own blood, and the face of men that he trusted looking down at him as he died.

"Little crow," he heard from behind him, the nickname and voice familiar, but he'd wound himself too far into a panic. He realized what was holding him was a set of arms, and he sobbed as he began to punch them.

"Let go of me," He yelled, and Ghost was whimpering now, having got up on his massive paws and Jon could feel him sniffing at his face.

Tormund grunted from behind him and threw one of his legs over Jon's to try and stop his thrashing, "Jon, stop," he said, his voice deep and full of authority as he spoke to him.

Jon looked up into the red eyes of Ghost, trying to use them and Tormund's familiar voice to ground him, bring him back from the dream set in another time.

He reached out the arm that Tormund wasn't restraining against his body, and he placed his hand on Ghost's shoulder, squeezing his fur and trying to stop the soft sobs that he was letting out.

"Hush, Jon," Tormund told him, his grip not at all faltering. Jon could feel the man's hot breath fluttering over his cold cheeks, "Just dreamin', pup," he murmured, the hand over his chest beginning to rub softly instead of just being used for crushing him back against his chest.

"I wasn't dreaming," Jon panted out, "It was too real, I could feel it," he told the redheaded man, trying to focus on the man's hand moving on his chest, how his deep rumble of a voice sounded to his ears.

Tormund purposely nuzzled his beard against him, the roughness of it scraping against his skin, "A memory then?" he asked quietly.

Jon nodded, his breathing starting to even out as he slowly started to calm down. Ghost licked his face once, and then laid himself back down, pushing himself against Jon, and continuing to whimper; the sight of his master in such a state was incredibly distressing for him.

"Sorry for waking you," He mumbled. He felt embarrassed now, he didn't like being seen as anything other than strong, he hated that he'd been for vulnerable in front of this beast of a man, a man that was holding him so close their bodies could mold together.

Tormund let out a displeased grunt behind him, "None of that," he replied, loosening his grip slightly so that it was no longer painful, but Jon could still feel how protective it was, "I wasn't sleeping anyway, and even if I was, not gonna care about being woken up by you when you need me,"

Jon was quiet for a while, and the appreciation and respect he had for the man behind him seemed to grow even more with each day. He sucked in a deep breath, and then let it out, watching in the dim light of the lantern as it disturbed Ghost's thick fur. His attention settled on Tormund's hand, large and resting against his chest, under several layers of his clothes, only above one or two, his long fingers were moving over the material in circles, a soothing motion that Jon could keep his attention on.

"Why weren't you asleep?" Jon finally asked, his voice a little croaky and he swiped his tongue over his dry lips, lifting his hand from Ghost's body to wipe at the snot that had fallen from his nose, and the tears from his eyes.

Tormund grumbled a little behind him, and Jon could feel the man's nose pressing against the back of his head, followed by him inhaling deeply, and Jon froze a little as he realized the man had just smelt his hair. His other hand, which had been somewhere between their bodies was over Jon's waist then, very low on his waist, and he wondered if the older man knew just how close his arm was to resting on his cock.

"I've got a messy head tonight, pup," Tormund told him, "Like I told you when we were back at Castle Black, I reckon it's hard to think when you're not in the open, but it's too bloody cold out there, that wind's still something nasty, and I couldn't leave my little crow to freeze," he laughed a little as he finished, his coarse beard tickling the back of his neck.

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes, "I wouldn't freeze to death if you left the tent, Tormund," he told the older man.

Tormund laughed behind him, and gave Jon a purposeful tight squeeze, "Maybe not freeze to death, but I know you'd be pretty fucking miserable without my nice warm body pressing against you the way it is," he said in a low tone, and Jon just knew he was smirking.

Jon dug his elbow into his side, "You're very cocky, you know that?" he huffed, looking over his shoulder at Wildling, catching the mirthful glint in his eye.

Tormund huffed, "Damn fucking right I'm cocky," he almost growled, the hand massaging circles on his chest flattening out as he pulled Jon back against him, and crudely shoved his crotch right against his ass.

Jon yelped in surprise, eyes widening as he quickly squirmed as far out of Tormund's arm as he could, laying closer to Ghost instead, "Tormund!" He said, surprise and even a little embarrassment in his voice, and he could feel his cold cheeks heat up just a little.

Tormund snorted several laughs, the sound of it filling their tent, "Come on, my little crow," he said as he crawled up behind him again, once again crushing Jon to his body, "Don't fuss so much," he grunted.

Jon could feel his heart pumping in his chest, "Why did you do that?" he grunted, his hand getting tangled somewhere under Ghost's stomach as the wolf rolled over.

"What? Push my cock up against your ass?" Tormund replied, sounding amused as he settled behind Jon again, splaying a hand over his lower stomach, dangerously far down. Jon grunted in reply, and he could feel his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment at Wildling's crudeness, "Well, my little crow, I wanted to see what your reaction would be, didn't I?"

Jon bit at his bottom lip, "Bad enough we even fucking lay like this," he grunted, and as warm as pleasant as he felt in Tormund's arms, he couldn't stop the thoughts of what he'd been told growing up.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, pup?" Tormund sighed.

"Two men," Jon replied like it was obvious. That's what it was like in Winterfell, along with all the other Kingdoms, men laid with women, married women.

Tormund groaned behind him, "Bloody Southerners," he mumbled, his voice beginning to sound tired like he might actually fall asleep if they were to stop talking.

"I'm from the North," Jon argued.

"Anywhere on the other side of the wall, is the South, little crow," Tormund replied, as he often did whenever Jon insisted he was from the North, "Those bloody Lords really do want to control fucking everything, don't they? Right down to who you fuck, cockless idiots,"

Jon chewed at the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore how embarrassed and uncomfortable he was feeling, "Wildling's do it differently? Men lay with men out here?" he asked, his voice embarrassingly quiet and shy.

Tormund hummed, scratching his beard against him and tapping his fingers against his stomach, "Out here, you lay with whoever the fuck you want to lay with, and people don't give a shit who, well unless you lay with someone that's already been claimed, that can lead to some... disagreements," he explained, doing as he promised, and teaching Jon the ways of the Free Folk.

"Claim?" Jon asked, confused as to what that meant.

Tormund sighed again, "I think people learn best by example, don't you?" he said, shifting back from Jon a little, only to prop himself up on an elbow and look down at him. Jon's lips parted as he met the large man's blue eyes as he continued, "If I claimed you, my little crow," The redhead started, his hand sliding up Jon's stomach and resting just over his collarbones, "That would mean that you were mine, you didn't fuck anyone else, nobody else fucked you. If you claimed me, I'd do the same. You'd be my little thing to protect and look after, you come before anyone else," He paused a moment, and Jon noticed that his eyes flickered downwards towards his lips, and Jon wondered what exactly Tormund wanted from him, "I'd fuck you every night, make the whole camp hear you,"

Jon forced down the lump in his throat down and moved his eyes away from Tormund's, unable to hold the eye contact any longer. The words that the chief spoke were bringing up thoughts and desires that Jon had hid away long ago. He rolled over a little, "It's like a marriage?" he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Tormund huffed but laid down again, and Jon started to chew at the inside of his cheek again - a nervous habit - as he pressed up against him again, "We have marriages too, gods, the celebrations we have for those, Jon Snow, they're good nights," he told him, chuckling deeply.

Jon nodded, and then a thought entered his mind.

They spent the next several minutes in silence, apart from Ghost's heavy breathing as he slept, and Jon couldn't get the thought out of his mind, no matter how many other things he tried to think of, or how much he tried to fall asleep. His attention was on Tormund's thick arms around him, his broad chest pressing against him and Jon had always known that he was shorter than most men his age, but he felt so small in Tormund's arms, and he couldn't bring himself to hate it.

"Have you been with men before?" he finally rushed out, rolling his eyes at himself for how much of an idiot he sounded like.

Tormund rumbled a laugh behind him, "I have, just as many men as I have women," he answered as if it was an extremely normal thing to say out here in the True North.

"Oh," Jon replied, absentmindedly playing with Ghost's fur.

"Did you really never have any men fucking men back in the South?" Tormund asked, his voice almost full of disbelief as he spoke, puffs of air fluttering across Jon's rosy cheeks as he huffed out soft laughs.

Jon cleared his throat, "Of course we did," he replied, stretching out one of his legs when he felt it beginning to stiffen up, and it brushed against Tormund's shin, "But they were never vocal about it... it was wrong, disgusting,"

Tormund growled behind him, "Ain't fucking nothing wrong or disgusting about it, especially when one of 'em is as bloody pretty as you are, little crow," he murmured, and Jon could almost feel the man's cold lips brushing against the back of his neck. Jon tried to find the words to speak, something that he could reply to that with, but he found nothing, "Go back to sleep now, pup, I'll fight away the bad dreams," he said, his voice as gentle and soothing as Jon had ever heard it, and if in some strange way it could ever be possible, Jon wanted to bathe in it.

Jon couldn't stop the small grin that spread on his lips. He trusted Tormund, even though it was physically impossible for Tormund to fight off his bad dreams, Jon knew that the Wildling would fight for him in every other way. He'd already proved that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some comments! Let me know what you're liking, and maybe some ideas of things you'd like to see in the future!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clan arrives at the plains, and Tormund lets Jon know he needs to do some thinking.

The harsh weather of the True North winter roused Jon the next morning; immediately after blinking his eyes open, he could feel the cold air that was cooling his body. There was hardly any weight on top of him, and looking down, he could see realized that there was only a single pelt covering his body. After glancing around the small tent, he noticed that Ghost had gone and that Tormund, while still sleeping, had rolled away from Jon in his unconsciousness, and took the pelts with him.

Jon scowled at him, and he rubbed at his weary eyes for a moment before he shuffled over, desperate for the warmth of the pelts and Tormund's body. He lifted the bulk of pelts and blankets, quickly crawling under them and letting them fall over his body. He sighed and moved to lay down closer to Tormund, but got distracted by the Wilding's face.

He looked younger and more peaceful as he slept. The wrinkles on his forehead were hidden, along with his bright blue eyes behind his eyelids. His beard had grown longer over the last couple of months of the war, and he didn't seem to have any interest in cutting it shorter, his hair was in the same situation, both a fiery red. Tormund's hair was always messy, but it was especially so when he was sleeping, or after he just woke up; sticking up in all directions and tangled in small knots.

Tormund was handsome. Jon could see that now, in the early morning light that was trickling through the flaps of the tent, with his face relaxed as he rested, he was handsome. Jon had forbidden himself of thinking about another man like that a long time ago, but he had no way of stopping the thoughts that entered his mind.

"Little crow,"

The voice took him by surprise. His focus had been on a scar that marked the corner of the Tormund's forehead before retreating into his hairline, and he hadn't even noticed that the older man had blinked his bleary eyes open.

Jon flushed at having been caught but forced himself to meet Tormund's eyes, "Morning," he said softly.

"Morning," Tormund quickly replied, glancing around the tent for a moment before looking to Jon again. His face wasn't so peaceful anymore, a small frown starting to form on his pink lips, "You're awake early. It's quiet, that means the rest of the clan isn't up,"

Jon huffed and laid down, resting his head on his bicep, stretching one of his legs out so that it pressed against the older man's, "Woke up because I was cold, asshole," he grunted, pulling the pelts right up to his neck.

Tormund didn't hesitate in rolling over, laying his arm over Jon's stomach, his hand cupping his waist and shifting closer to him, "If you're cold, why were above me, instead of against me," he asked, his eyes fluttering shut again.

Jon glared at him, even though the man couldn't see it. He reached his hand down and punched Tormund in the side, pulling a groan from the Wildling, "You fucking rolled away at some point, took all the pelts and blankets with you, and Ghost has left," he answered, trying to be annoyed, but he was comfortable, and the memory of the conversation they'd had the previous night, occupying his mind.

Tormund grumbled like he was only half listening, lowering his head so that his forehead brushed Jon's shoulder, and he nuzzled against him, pulling Jon a little closer to him.

A sigh fell from Jon's lips, and after a moment of consideration, he lifted his arm from where it laid crushed between his own body and Tormund's body, much to the annoyance of the redhead who groaned at having to lift his head, but quickly went quiet when Jon wrapped said over his shoulders.

Jon was stiff, with a small grimace on his face as his hand cupped Tormund's massive bicep, the rest of his arm pressed against his back; holding him. Tormund snuggled and grabbed him all he liked, didn't seem to care, but Jon hadn't taken that initiative before, he just stayed still while Tormund settled where he wanted to.

Tormund let out a deep sigh, his breath passing over the exposed skin of Jon's neck. Jon peaked down at him, and he found that the older man had a tiny smile on his lips.

"Warm up, my little crow," Tormund told him a few moments later, not at all seeming to mind what Jon had done with his arm.

Jon swallowed, "How much further do you think?" he asked, not liking that he was disturbing the Wildling when he was trying to rest, but he wanted to know, "If it's much farther we might have to stop and rest a few days before we continue, the children are starting tire; Anelda's six months pregnant, and there's more even farther along than her,"

"You're a worrier, aren't you?" Tormund replied, "We've traveled for periods much longer than this one, everyone is given plenty of time to rest at night; how much of that time they choose to spend actually sleeping, is their own choice,"

Jon licked his lips, not noticing that his fingers had begun absentmindedly drawing patterns on the older man's shoulder over his layers, "That didn't answer my question," he said after a moment.

He heard Tormund chuckle and knew that he probably rolled his eyes, "If we stay on track, no complications, two more nights and days, arrive around midday or early afternoon on the third day," he answered him.

Jon nodded, "Okay," he murmured, "What time do you think it is?" he asked.

"Sun rises at seven, and people get up half past. Startin' to hear people waking up," Tormund told him, a rough guess. Jon had a small watch in his pack that he could check for the exact time, but he was comfortable, and Tormund was warm; he didn't want to move.

"You think it will be quiet?" Jon asked, "At the plains I mean,"

"Peaceful?" Tormund replied, tilting his head upward and looking up at him. Jon met his eyes, and nodded, Tormund sighed, shifting against him and rolling onto his back. Jon followed him, sitting up on an elbow and looking down at him.

Jon wasn't going to let the man ignore his question. He wanted to know; he wanted Tormund to talk to him. His placed his gloved hand down on Tormund's shoulder and squeezed, "Tell me," he said.

Tormund blinked up at him, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips, his eyes flickering over his face, "Peace will come on and off," he finally said, "Other clans will want the space... especially after we've built it up. We'll have to defend our land and our people, people will die, Jon,"

Jon bit at his bottom lip, burnt from the wind, "Seen a lot of death over the past few years," he murmured, eyes moving away from the man's beneath him, gazing at the patterns of his clothing instead.

Tormund looked up at him sadly, and he lifted his hand, placing it on Jon's cheek like he often did, brushing his large thumb through the scruff of his beard, "I know, pup," he murmured, a frown pulling at his pink lips, "And you're gonna see a little more, chances are. But, I ain't seeing you dead again, you hear?"

Jon smiled, shaking his head fondly, "Aye," he said, "I promise not to get stabbed again," he laid down again, his forehead resting against Tormund's broad shoulder.

Tormund rumbled, turning over and throwing a long leg over Jon's own, "I better keep an eye on you, just to be sure," he mumbled, his voice still filled with drowsiness.

Jon snorted, "It's not like I have a full-grown dire wolf to do that, is it?" he replied, listening to the camp outside their tent, it was getting louder; more people were up, preparing to eat and pack away the tents before they headed off again.

"Just for my own peace of mind," Tormund said, "Gotta make sure my little crow doesn't get in any trouble,"

"That's coming from you; it's not like you're all that well behaved either," Jon argued, a smirk forming on his lips.

Tormund's fingers suddenly jabbed into Jon's side, and he jumped in surprise, before grunting in annoyance, "Was that necessary?" he asked, slapping Tormund's shoulder in retaliation.

Tormund laughed deeply, his hand resting on Jon's waist again, "Shut up and let me sleep," he said, but with no heat behind it.

"Yeah, okay," Jon hummed and closed his own eyes again.

 

* * *

 

Jon could see Tormund getting excited as he trotted his horse down the path in the woods beside him. Tormund had explained that it was the main access area to the plains, and had been naturally formed by hundreds of years of footfall.

Tormund and Jon had taken off ahead from the rest of the Wildlings, leaving Ghost to watch over them as they made sure that there were no other wildlings on the plains, though Jon was sure they would have heard them by now if there was.

"Already pretty, isn't it?" Tormund called to him, a broad smile that showed his teeth as he looked over at him.

"Yeah," Jon replied, his eyes moving through the woods that surrounded them.

The woods were, in fact, very pretty. The long branches of trees covered the sky above the path, and the trees were thick, but still easy to move through, icicles hanging from them. Jon knew that there would be plenty of game inside them and that the hunters of the clan wouldn't struggle to find them food.

"How much farther?" Jon asked, the wind wasn't as bad as the previous day, and there was no need to shout over it. Jon knew that Tormund could hear him well enough.

"Just around that bend, pup," The Wildling replied, pointing to where the end of the path swirled around a cluster of trees. Tormund flashed him a smile, and then kicked his horse into a canter and sped across the snow. Jon smiled, and followed after him.

Jon's lips parted when he emerged from the trees, Tormund already out and having dismounted his horse, staring out at what laid in front of him. The lake laid far to their left, it starts only meters from the treeline, and the trees wound around it as it stretched out towards the mountains that stood tall in the far distance. The plains spread from the edge of the lake, and across the several miles it took for the woods to start up again on the right.

Along the flat ground, covered in the snow, was as Tormund had told him, the remains of an old village. Some huts and cabins stood half collapsed, along with other structures and items he couldn't make out. There was some old fencing too, and Jon suspected that whatever wildlings lived here did have horses, and had kept them in there.

Jon had always thought of North of the Wall as an endless white, wasteland, nothing special about it, just an empty shell of a cold, miserable life. But now, looking at the Caminhedra plains, that Tormund had taken him and their people to, that opinion completely changed.

He looked around with amazed eyes and parted lips, his breath visible in the freezing air. He couldn't lift his gaze from it, it was breathtaking, and he'd never seen anything like it. It didn't compare to anything that he'd ever seen before.

He could make out Tormund walking towards him out of the corner of his eye, and only when he felt the man's hand on his thigh, did he look down. Tormund's eyes, as blue as a dress Sansa used to wear at Winterfell, his brows raised, and the breeze blowing his hair out behind him.

"Jon," he said quietly, his hand sliding up his leg a little further, raising his other and placing it on Jon's waist, his tall height making it easy for him to reach, "What do you think, my little crow?" he asked him. He sounded almost nervous, like that for whatever reason, Jon would say he hated it.

Jon shook his head, his lips pulling in a smile as he took another glance around the vast expanse of land, "It's beautiful, Tormund," He replied, and slipped his foot out of the stirrup, lifting his leg to dismount Argo. Tormund kept his hands on him and helped him, even though Jon had gotten off a horse thousands of times, all but lifting Jon of the horse and then setting him down.

When he looked back at Tormund's face, he found the man was smiling now, so wide it reached it his eyes. His large hands fell on Jon's shoulders, "You like it? Reckon you could live here, my little crow?" he asked him, his hands squeezing.

Jon nodded, glancing behind Tormund to the lake; it was still liquid, yet to be frozen but Jon suspected that it would freeze at least partially before the winter was over in the next couple of years.

Jon's eyes moved back to the redheaded Wildling that was looking down at him. He licked his lips, glanced down at Tormund's for a moment, and then spoke, "I didn't know something as beautiful as this existed North of the Wall," he murmured, and then laughed a little at himself, "I don't even know what to say. I've never really wanted to live anywhere before, just went where I was offered, if that makes sense," He started to explain, and Tormund stared right into his eyes as he spoke, "This feels different,"

Tormund nodded like he understood, "I get that," he said, "I've never had anywhere feel like home except for here," his hands left Jon's shoulders, traveling down his body slowly until they rested over his waist. Jon shuddered at the touch, leaning into it as he listened to Tormund's drawl of a voice, "I've wanted to come back here for a long time. I'm glad I got a little crow to come with me this time around,"

Jon couldn't stop himself from smiling, and then Tormund pulled him forward, pulling a surprised shriek from Jon's lips as he collided with his chest. Tormund held Jon against his body, and Jon was so much shorter that his face buried in the man's shoulder. Tormund's arms wrapped completely over his back, and Jon managed to squeeze his own out from where they'd been trapped against the Wildling's torso and lifted them around the beast of a man's neck.

That spurred Tormund on, and he completely lifted Jon up from the ground, crushing him to his chest with his ridiculously strong arms and swaying him a little bit as a deep laugh erupted from his chest, "My little crow," he exclaimed.

Jon wriggled in Tormund's arms, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing either, "Put me down, you bloody brute!" He shouted, making weak attempts to punch Tormund's shoulder blades.

Tormund chuckled, and Jon tried to flinch away from where the man's beard was scratching his neck, but he didn't have much of a range of movement.

Tormund eventually put him down a few moments later, Jon stumbling on his feet a couple of times before he gathered his balance.

The way that Tormund was gazing down at him, the look in his eyes and the small smile on his lips, it made his stomach flutter, and he knew that his face was flushed.

Jon forced himself to look away after a few moments, unable to bear the intense gaze any longer. He stepped back from his and Tormund's embrace, his hands sliding from the redhead's shoulders, down his arms and then brushing over his hands before he finally moved away from his touch completely.

"Should we go back to the others?" He asked the older man, awkwardly clearing his throat and stepping back towards Argo, brushing his hand over his neck, his black coat soft beneath his fingertips.

He could hear Tormund approaching behind him, and he jumped a little when his hands landed on his hips, "They'll catch up in a little while," he replied, his nose knocking against the top of Jon's head, and he was tempted to let his head roll back so that it rested against. Tormund bent his head down a little lower, beard brushing against him, and Jon could feel his breath against his neck as he tilted his mouth towards it.

Jon closed his eyes and sighed softly. He reached down for Tormund's hands on his hips, and gently pushed them away, "Tormund," he mumbled, he wasn't oblivious, he knew what the Wildling wanted, ever since he'd shoved his cock up against him and then proceeded to tell him how homosexuality (or men fucking men in his terms) was considered normal amongst the Free Folk, "I can't,"

"Why?" Tormund asked, grabbing Jon's hips again and pulling him back against him, "Tell me," he murmured, his voice quiet and barely audible over the wind blowing through the nearby trees. His lips and scruffy beard brushed over Jon's neck, and he shuddered. One of the hands on his hips shifted and splayed over his stomach again.

Jon could feel a knot forming in his throat. He tried to ignore how much he liked being able to feel the pressure of Tormund's big hands on his torso, his chest pressed against his back, "I just can't," he said again.

Tormund shook his head against him, "No," he said, "That's not telling me," He brushed his hands over his stomach, up his waist and then down again, the tiniest of sighs slipping from Jon's mouth as he tried to fight the enjoyment he felt from the touch.

Jon's eyes were suddenly wet, "I was just starting to forget," he almost spat out, shoving Tormund off him, the man going willingly.  _Starting to forget what I am, what they'd do to me_ , "You can't fucking make me think like that again,"

He took Argo by his reins and led him over to one of the thinner trunked trees. His throat was tight, and a few tears had already leaked from his eyes. His hands were shaking, and not just from the cold. He knew that Tormund was watching him as he tied Argo's reins to the tree, taking his time with it so that he had a reason not to look at Tormund.

After a few moments, Tormund walked up behind him again, stopping a few feet away from him and he didn't touch him. He spoke a few moments later, his voice faint, "I won't push you, Jon Snow," he said, and Jon knew that. Of course, he knew that "But I know what I want, have for a long time. You should have a think about what you want,"

Jon heard his footsteps against the snow as he walked away, and after a few moments, he spared a glance over his shoulder. He saw Tormund walking through the remains of the old village, running his hand along the standing wood of huts and cabins, he seem to have a destination in mind.

Jon sighed and walked to the man's horse, who he'd left standing on the snow. He grasped the horse's reins between his fingers and stroked his hand down her nose before turning and leading her to Argo, "Come on, Hrenna," he murmured to the chestnut. He tied her to the tree beside Argo and then left them be while he decided to follow Tormund's lead (but not his direction) and walk through the village.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the clan arrived barely twenty minutes later, smiling and laughing as they entered the space they would occupy as their new village. The children quickly had bursts of energy and began darting through the wood, while others chose to start setting up their tents and belongings or jump straight to talking about the reconstruction of the buildings.

Jon felt like he needed a drink as he walked along the shore of the lake. He was far enough from everyone that he couldn't make out what they were saying, but he still felt comfort in their incoherent chatter that he wasn't alone.

Jon stopped for a moment to watch them, smiling when he saw that Anelda was sat down, and her husband was the one working on the tent. Tormund was further through the collapsed village, several men with him by a sizeable run-down cabin. Jon knew that it must be the chief's cabin that he spoke of. The cabin wasn't in that bad of shape, it was partially knocked down; gaps in the logs, some gone altogether, and one side of it was on a dangerous lean, but it appeared to be easily fixable.

A movement against the snow further down caught his eye, and he smiled when he realized it was Ghost slowly trotting towards him. The wolf's pure white coat was almost invisible against the snow the ground was coated in, his dark nose and red eyes had been what caused Jon to spot him.

It didn't take long for the massive creature to reach Jon, and he squatted down when he was only a few meters away. Ghost's nose pressed into his hand before he rubbed his face along his arm and then nuzzled against his shoulder and chest.

"Hey, Ghost," Jon greeted him quietly, trying not to let his eyes fall on the visible hole that went down into his head, that should have been covered by a soft and long ear.

Ghost let out a soft, playful bark and pushed his head against Jon so hard that he fell back on his ass against the snow. Jon snorted, and reached up with both of his hands, rubbing Ghost's shoulders hard enough to make sure he could feel it beneath his thick fur. Ghost leaned into his touch, his tail wagging madly behind him like an ordinary house dog's would.

"You're much happier out here, aren't you?" Jon said, in some strange way, he knew that the wolf could understand him. He'd known that ever since he was a puppy that cried when Jon wouldn't let him sleep on top of his stomach. Jon nodded, "Yeah, this is where you belong Ghost," Ghost growled, knocking their heads together as he sat, big red, terrifying eyes staring back into Jon's. He cupped the animal's face, "Maybe I do too,"

He stayed there with Ghost for a while, eventually making his way back to the village. He helped several wildlings set up their camps, and then spent the rest of the day with Anelda, and her family. Genamyr, her husband, was a loud man, drinking from a wineskin as he told Jon stories. Her son, Balrik, was the opposite of his father; he was quiet and barely spoke to Jon, but he saw him crack smiles at his father's stories.

 

* * *

 

It hours after dark when Jon finally made his way to where he'd seen Tormund pitch their tent by the chief's cabin. Jon had eaten with Anelda and her family, along with a couple of other Wildling's that had joined them around their fire. He then spent a couple of hours on patrol, walking the perimeters of the camp, keeping an eye on the treeline while also waiting for Ghost to return. He'd disappeared into the woods like he often did in the evenings to go and hunt for several hours, before returning after most of the clan had gone to sleep, and he could sniff out what tent Jon was in and curl up behind him.

Ghost had decided to stay out longer that night, so Jon had returned to the tent without him, trying to ignore how nervous he felt about going into the tent with the redheaded Wildling after what had happened between them earlier in the day.

When he poked his head through the flaps of the tent, he could see Tormund under the pelts, facing away from him and he was still, a wineskin laying a foot or so from his hand. Jon hoped that he was asleep, but of course, he wasn't.

"Out late tonight, little crow," Tormund rumbled, and Jon could hear the slight slur in his voice. He must have had a decent amount to drink.

Jon began to remove his outer layer of pelts, the ones that the outside had cooled to much to try and sleep in, "I was out guarding the perimeter," Jon told him as he tossed the clothes on top of where Tormund's lied beside their packs.

"Too cold for you out there," Tormund said, making no move to roll over and face him, and Jon was okay with that.

Jon pulled off his boots and then crawled under the pelts. He laid down close beside Tormund but didn't touch him, despite how much he wanted to.

"I was fine," Jon replied, using his bicep as a pillow as he stared up at the ceiling of the tent.

Tormund hummed a little, "Suppose tonight isn't the worst night, you should have come and had a drink with me, I prefer drinking with company," he said.

Jon sighed, closing his eyes, "I needed some time alone... needed to think," he told the older man, feeling himself finally begin to warm up beneath the pelts.

Tormund rumbled and finally rolled over onto his back. Jon looked over, and their eyes met, Tormund reached out and tucked the pelts further up Jon's body as he began to speak, "You're not a Southern man anymore, Jon Snow. You're a part of the Free Folk now, and we're called the Free Folk for a reason. You need to forget the ways you grew up, because that's not how it is for you anymore," He told him, his voice as serious as Jon had ever heard it.

Jon swallowed, an uncomfortable churning forming in his gut, "I just need to let that sink in a while," he replied, glancing down Tormund's face, flickering over his lip for a moment.

"Alright," Tormund sighed, and then lifted one of his arms, "Come on, I know you're cold," he almost whispered.

Jon looked at him a moment, worrying at his bottom lip as he did before finally, he shifted over to Tormund. As he laid his head down on the man's shoulder, his arm curled around him and held him against him.

It took a few moments, but Jon settled, Tormund's beard tickling his forehead, his arm around him, and Jon had thrown a leg over the older man's longer ones.

"Sleep, my little crow," Tormund murmured, breaking the silence of their tent.

Jon did, several minutes later, warm and comfortable as he let unconsciousness overtake him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Tormund learn more about each other, and Balrik talks to Jon for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning!!! - brief mentions of rape. 
> 
> Make sure to read the bottom notes of this fic. 
> 
> Also, at the end of the chapter, there is some photos that inspired to what the original characters look like.

Jon's screams had woken almost all of the clan that morning. What should have been a peaceful sleep, curled up against his wolf and best friend, turned into an unconsciousness full of nightmares - the memories and faces of the dead plaguing him.

Tormund was there, Tormund was always there. Wildlings had shown up at their tent, calling in to see if everything was okay. Jon couldn't blame them. He'd heard himself screaming; he knew what he sounded like. Tormund had sent everyone away as he held the sobbing Jon in his arms, his lips brushing over his head as his fingers gently combed through his hair.

That was hours ago, now, the sun had risen, and Jon was on Argo, trotting, and cantering when he could through the woods. He'd needed to clear his head, away from all the other Wildlings that looked on at him in concern, away from Ghost who always got particularly clingy when he could sense that something was wrong with him, and away from Tormund who looked incredibly concerned whenever he looked at him.

Jon knew that wouldn't last long. Just as he'd left the plains and broke the tree line, he'd been looking over his shoulder back at the village, and he could see that Tormund had mounted his own horse and was walking her in Jon's general direction. He knew that the man had followed him into the woods and that it wouldn't take long for him to reach him.

A sigh fell from Jon's lips as he pulled Argo back to a walk, the woods were getting thicker, along with the snow that lined the ground, and he didn't want to cause the horse an injury because of his own carelessness. Argo seemed grateful for the slow pace; his head bent low as he breathed heavily, so Jon stroked his neck softly in apology.

It had been a week since they'd first arrived at the Plains, and everyone was clearly much happier. The Wildlings were settling into their roles in the clan, and the reconstruction of the buildings was well underway. Jon knew that Tormund was really looking forward to being able to stay in his big cabin.

Jon spotted a fallen log just through the trees, near the shore of the river that stretched through to meet the lake. He decided that was a good place to stop and sit down, wait for Tormund to catch up with him. He dismounted Argo, stroked a hand down the Friesian's neck before grabbing the reins and leading him to the log, tying him to a branch that sprung from it before sitting himself down on the wood.

He sighed as he lifted his head to look at the sky, icy blue and covered in clouds. It matched the rest of the woods around him. The wind had picked up a bit again over the past couple of days, and Jon was glad that even though he'd left the Night's Watch, he'd kept his crow coat, purely because it was heavy and a good source of warmth.

His mind wandered to his siblings as he looked out at the woods that surrounded him. He missed them deeply, and while he couldn't have seen himself staying in either King's Landing or Winterfell, he missed them now that he was so far away. He'd fought wars beside them, and only seen them for a brief amount of time after spending years believing that they were all dead. He knew that he could stay in touch with them through Ravens, but it wasn't the same as sitting around a fire, drinking and laughing as they told the stories from their time apart.

The secret of who he actually was, who his mother and father truly were. He thought of father that raised him, Ned Stark who never let Jon doubt that he loved him, but always made it that Jon was never going to be like his children who weren't bastards. There were times when Jon had hated him, but looking back on it now, Ned had kept him alive by never revealing his true blood, that he was, in fact, his nephew not his son. That he was the son of a Targaryen. Robert Baratheon would have killed him to protect his own seat on the throne. The throne that Jon had never even wanted.

Jon hated that he hadn’t been there when a majority of his family had died, that Arya was alone when their father was executed by an evil king, that his brother and mother had been betrayed by someone they trusted all because Robb fell in love. He hadn't seen how they died, so his unconscious mind would use its imagination to come up with vivid pictures of what happened to haunt his dreams.

Rickon was different though. Jon had been only meters from him when he died, seconds away from grasping his hand and pulling him onto his horse behind him and to safety. He'd never been able to get that image out of his hand, the boy who had grown so much since he'd last saw him, collapsing to the ground just before Jon could save him.

A choked off sob fell from his lips, and he bent his head down, staring down at his boots as he ran his hands through his hair. He hadn't been trying it up now he wasn't fighting,

He tried not to cry, but he couldn't, he was in too much pain.

He heard Tormund making his way through the trees a few minutes later, but he still didn't lift his head, continuing to cry into his hands as Tormund tied his horse.

"Come here," Tormund whispered as he sat down beside Jon, slipping an arm around his back and pulling him toward him. Jon went to him willingly, burying his face in the redhead's massive shoulder and squeezing his eyes closed as he held Tormund around his waist.

Jon didn't know how long he cried for, but it was enough that his eyes were puffy and his nose runny. He hiccupped against Tormund's neck, as he tried to force himself to calm down, "Relax, Jon, you'll vomit up your breakfast otherwise," Tormund told him, his hand petting the back of his head.

Jon tried to take a deep breath, but he shook as he did, and another sob escaped his mouth, "Fuck," he whimpered to himself, his hands gripping Tormund's clothes tightly.

Tormund went to pull back, but Jon let out a whine of a noise and tightened his grip on the man's waist, he didn't want him to let go of him. Tormund hushed him, "I'm not going anywhere, little crow, just need to get your face out of my clothes so you can breathe a little better," he told him, applying pressure to his shoulders.

Jon let the man push him away, but he kept their chests pressing together as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes, the cold air once again hitting his face. Tormund's hand brushed down his arms as he gave him a moment.

"Deep breaths," The man reminded him, and Jon nodded as he did what he said, his breathing slowly starting to become less shaky.

It took several minutes, but he got his breathing back to normal, his eyes focused on Tormund's face, flickering over his features, "I'm sorry," he finally managed to get out, his voice a little croaky.

Tormund shook his head, "What're you sorry for?" he asked, "People cry, nothing to fuss over,"

Jon shook his head, "I'm just such a mess ever since I got to Castle Black, and you're the one dealing with it. That's not fair on you," he said, finally forcing himself to meet the redhead's eyes.

Tormund moved one hand to hold Jon's jaw, holding him still so that he couldn't look away, "I don't give a shit about what's fair and what isn't. Stop feeling so bloody guilty about it; I'd rather lose a couple of hours a night than know you're needing me and saying nothing,"

Jon sighed, holding Tormund's gaze, "I wish that I didn't need to," he whispered, his hand carefully moving to Tormund's waist, pushing it beneath some of the furs he was wearing to get some warmth, "I wish that I could just sleep... that the things that keep me awake never happened,"

Tormund smiled sadly at him, "After the last couple of years, we all have times like this. You shouldn't feel bad that it's your turn," he replied, pushing some of Jon's hair behind his ear. He was quiet for a moment, "This about your nightmares?" he asked.

Jon nodded, feeling the Wildling wipe at another tear that rolled down his cheek, "I see Rickon a lot, that final moment, him looking at me. He was so afraid, and I couldn't help him," he almost whimpered, and Tormund's hands remained on him, gentle strokes that calmed him, "People that I've seen die, I see what happened, those I didn't..." he trailed off.

"Your head comes up with what did?" Tormund asked gently, pulling Jon a little closer to him again.

Jon collapsed forward, resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck, feeling him shiver when he breathed against it, "I never knew how fucked up my imagination could be," he murmured, looking over Tormund's shoulder at the woods behind him.

Tormund held him tight, and he kissed Jon's head before resting his head against his. His embrace completely enveloped Jon, and he felt absolutely tiny, but it was warm and comfortable.

Jon started to cry again.

 

* * *

 

"You said you grew up here," Jon started as they made their way back to the clan. They'd stayed on the log for over an hour, Tormund helping Jon calm down and letting him talk a little more before he urged him to follow him back to the plains, as he needed to get things done, but he didn't want to leave Jon alone. Jon had agreed to go with him.

Tormund nodded, riding close beside him, "I did," he replied, his breath visible as he spoke.

"Why'd you leave?" Jon asked, realizing that the man looked a little tense. He'd been wondering ever since they reached the plains and Tormund revealed that he'd grown up there, that if the broken remains of a village had been from Tormund's clan.

Tormund sighed heavily, "The village had already been standing for two years before I was born, and I was there until I was twelve," He began to explain, looking over at Jon and meeting his eyes, "After all that time, it was a damn good village. There wasn't one person living in a tent, and nobody was going cold or hungry. Other clans wanted to have it for themselves,"

Jon listened intently to every word he spoke, he'd wanted to know more about Tormund's life before they met for a long time, "They took it from you?" he asked softly.

Tormund looked away from him, and nodded once, "Wasn't a slow thing, little crow. Took weeks," He began to explain, a deep frown on his pink lips beneath his beard, "They came every night, slowly slaughtering all of our fighters until there wasn't enough left to defend us," his voice shook slightly as he spoke, and Jon moved his horse closer to the other man's.

Jon reached out and took his hand, smiling when Tormund immediately squeezed it, "You were a boy," he murmured, "Did they hurt you?" he asked, and it felt nice to have Tormund's hand in his own. He'd taken in Tormund's words of how he was a wildling now, and it wasn't like the ways he'd grown up, so he was slowly coming to terms with the feelings he harbored for the older man.

He knew Tormund was waiting for him.

Tormund motioned to a scar that started on the corner of his forehead and then disappeared into his hairline, "On the last night, after most of the men were killed, my father included," Jon frowned at that, it was the first time Tormund had ever mentioned his parents, "They sat us all down on the snow, didn't care how cold it made us. They started to take the women, and I attacked the one taking my mother, he slashed me with his knife,"

Jon shook his head and brought Argo to a stop, Tormund doing the same with Hrenna, "I'm sorry," he said, brushing his thumb over the redhead's knuckles, while his other had moved to sit on his thigh, "I've read some stories about what the battles between clans could be like, never had one recalled to me though,"

Tormund nodded, sighing as he leaned forward and knocked his head against Jon's, "Whatever happens, I'm not letting that happen to my clan again. We're going to protect our land and people from other clans,"

Jon nodded, "They're not going to touch them," he said.

Tormund was quiet for a moment, sighing, his sad eyes meeting Jon's, "I'll be the one they want most. Chief is always the highest," he told him.

Jon chewed at the inside of his cheek, an uncomfortable swirl in his gut as he stared into Tormund's bright blue eyes, "They're not touching you," he said, his voice firm, eyes flickering to the scar Tormund had pointed out earlier, "I've lost so many people, and you're not going to one,"

Tormund's lips pulled in a tiny smile, "That goes for you too, my little crow,"

 

* * *

 

Their horses were taken by another Wildling when they arrived back at the camp, and Tormund quickly wound an arm around Jon's lower back, wanting to show him something (not the Chief's cabin as he was refusing to let Jon see it until it was finished, because he wanted him to see it when it was completed).

Jon had gone with him willingly, ignoring the looks he got from some of the more curious people as they passed through the camp. Remembering he hadn't seen Anelda that day, he came to a stop, looking up at Tormund right as he looked down at him, and Jon was once again reminded how large he was.

"Why are we stopping?" The redhead asked, his brows pulled together in confusion.

"I haven't seen Anelda since yesterday, and she was patching one of my shirts for me. I'd like to see if she's finished," Jon told him, beginning to walk again. Tormund sighed but followed after him.

They reached Anelda and Genamyr's tent after a few moments, and Anelda appeared to be the only one around.

"Afternoon, Jon," Anelda greeted when she saw them, "Tormund,"

"Afternoon," Jon replied, moving away from Tormund's arm around his waist and he stepped over to her, "Where's Genamyr and Balrik?" he asked, looking around to see if he could spot them anyway.

Anelda shifted where she was sat on a log, carving something into wood, "They're walking through the woods, Genamyr wants to find some things to use as landmarks if Balrik ever gets lost out there, so he'd be able to find his way back," She explained, blowing at her long dark hair when it fell in front of her eyes.

Jon licked his lips, resisting the urge to roll his eyes went Tormund stepped up behind him, being his handsy self as one hand cupped his hip. Jon noticed that Tormund did simple things like that a lot when they were out and about within the camp, a hand on his back, an arm around his shoulders, standing close enough so that some part of them was always touching each other. Jon suspected it was so the rest of the clan knew that Tormund had the intentions of claiming Jon, whenever Jon decided he was ready for it.

"That's a good idea," Jon said, and turned his head to look at Tormund, "I think that's something all the children should do, as a precaution," he told the Chief, knowing that he'd have to approve it.

Tormund looked at him for several long moments, an expression Jon couldn't read on his face "Alright," he said after a moment, nodding slightly as he looked to Anelda, "When they get back, let Genamyr know that he's responsible for taking the kids out, show them each the same landmarks. No more than groups of six at a time, each child over five needs to go," He informed her.

Anelda nodded, "Of course. He'll be happy to do that over the next couple of days, he's working on huts with Norik, and everyone knows those two don't get along," she replied, grinning at them as she laid a hand over her stomach.

Tormund nodded, "Aye that they don't. Expect it to be only a couple more days before punches start getting thrown," he said, licking his lips in thought.

Jon watched him for a moment and then looked back to Anelda, "Have you finished patching my shirt?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," She said, standing up from the log and then disappearing into her tent. Jon focused on Tormund's hand rubbing his back while he waited for her to emerge again, elbowing him in the gut when he leaned down to rub his beard against him. Anelda appeared then, grunting and holding her back as she straightened up, and she held out the shirt to Jon, "Here,"

"Thank you," Jon replied as he took it, folding the thick material over his shoulder.

Anelda shook her head and sat back down again, "You can thank me by sending your dire wolf with Genamyr when he takes the kids out. It'd make me, and the other parents feel better about it," She told him, raising a brow like she dared him to say no.

He huffed a little, but she was his friend, so he didn't mind the attitude, "Sure, he's hunting now, but tomorrow, is fine," he replied, smiling back at her, and then he turned to Tormund, "Ready to go?" he asked, and Tormund eagerly nodded, "See you tomorrow, Anelda," he told her, and then let Tormund lead him away.

"See you boys," Anelda called back, laughing softly and shaking her head.

 

* * *

  

"What are you so excited about?" Jon huffed as he almost tripped over the peg of a tent as Tormund tugged him through the camp towards a building which was being reconstructed need the shore of the lake.

"I have something to show you!" Tormund called back at him, Jon's hand clasped tightly in his.

They reached the building, where those were supposed to be working on it appeared to have stopped for a break, and Tormund led him around to the side of it.

Jon's eyes fell on three small, half-finished wooden boats, along with some fishing poles sitting inside them.

Looking at Tormund, Jon found him grinning as he looked down at him, "What do you think, pup?" he asked, grabbing Jon by his hips, "Found the poles under the snow, still working, and the boats will be finished in a few days; people fish from the shore until then,"

Tormund's smile was contagious, Jon feeling a pull at his own lips, "I'm looking forward to eating something different, I can tell you that," he replied.

Tormund slapped him on the shoulder, "I'll cook it up for us," he said.

"You've said that before," Jon told him, and swallowed before reaching out placing his hands on Tormund's forearms.

Tormund lowered his head a little, "I know. I just need to make sure that you believe it," he said playfully.

Jon rolled his eyes, "Unnecessary," he mumbled, as he was pulled to Tormund's side and tucked under his arm as he started walking again.

"Let's go and have a drink, my little crow!" The Wildling said joyfully as they started to make their way through the camp again.

 

* * *

  

Jon ran his hand back and forth through Ghost's fur as they sat together. Genamyr was running around collecting a group of children to take into the woods with him to show them the landmarks that he and Balrik had found the previous day, and Jon had been left to watch the boy while he ate his breakfast. Tormund was off hunting, so Jon had nothing better to do.

Anelda was nearby, just inside her tent, and they were sat around the fire outside of it, she'd been feeling very unwell that morning due to her pregnancy, so Jon had told her to rest a while longer, and he'd watch Balrik since his father would be leaving. Jon liked to think he was good with kids, after all, while he, Robb and Sansa were similar in age, Arya, Bran, and Rickon were a deal younger than he was. He'd also spent a lot of time around little Sam.

Balrik was different though; he was a quiet child who kept to himself and didn't like being away from his mother or father. Jon watched the small boy, he looked a lot like his mother, but not so much his father.

"How old are you?" Jon asked after several moments of prolonged silence, spooning some of his tasteless porridge into his mouth.

Balrik looked up at him, "Seven," he replied after several moments, looking down at his food again.

"Have you ever lived in a village before, or just camps?" Jon asked.

The boy looked up at him, almost like he was confused as to why Jon was talking to him, "Once when I was a baby, but I don't remember it," he told Jon, eating his own porridge slowly.

"I grew up in Winterfell," Jon told him, hoping he may have found an opening in the conversation, "Have you heard of there?"

Balrik nodded, "Mhm, mother said you came from there before you went to the Night's Watch," he said.

Jon nodded, "I did. I left for the Night's Watch when I was eighteen, barely spent any time being an actual brother," He said, nudging Ghost away when he tried to get at his food, "All the wars and the trouble with the white walkers started,"

Surprisingly, Balrik looked up at him and met his eyes, "Why are you here now then?" he asked.

Jon nibbled at his lip as he thought of a response, "Well, I had to go back to Castle Black, but I didn't want to be there, so I followed Tormund out here," he answered the boy, giving him a small smile.

Balrik nodded and looked at him thoughtfully, he had a mouthful of his porridge, and then spoke again, "Have you and Tormund claimed each other? Mother and father think so,"

Jon was taken by surprise by his question and choked a little on his mouthful of breakfast. He looked at the child with raised brows, and reached for his cup of water, "Uh, no, not yet," he replied after swallowing several sips, and he coughed into his elbow.

Balrik nodded, "Okay," he replied, "My mother and father got married when she found she was going to have me," he told him.

Jon grinned at the little piece of unnecessary information, "Lots of people do that, sometimes whether they were in love or not,"

"Did your mother and father marry when they found about you?" Balrik asked curiously, and Jon could make out a small smile on his lips.

Jon frowned a little. He didn't have any reason to hide who he really was anymore and telling a child would be a good place to start, especially Balrik who was didn't seem to have many if any friends and was quiet enough anyway.

"I'm not sure, I know they were married, but I'm sure how long afterward I was born," he replied, "I never met them, I was raised as the bastard son of my uncle,"

Balrik nodded, "Why do Southerners hate bastards so much? We don't care out here," he said, placing his bowl of porridge down, having finished it.

Jon searched his brain for an answer, but he didn't really have one, not one that a young child raised North of the Wall would understand, "I don't know, Balrik," he told him, sighing softly and forcing a smile.

Balrik shrugged, "M'kay," he mumbled, a smile spreading over his lips when he saw his father approaching to collect Ghost and then take the kids into the woods.

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 **Photos** (Taken from google images & pinterest)

****

This is similar to what I imagine the plains being like, the lake would be sitting before the trees, and the trees would stretch longer and be thicker/taller. The mountains would also be taller. The entrance to the plains is to the right of the picture, and then facing out towards the mountains. 

 

**Anelda**

 

**Genamyr**

 

**Balrik**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did a little bit of a fuck up. I completely forgot the fact that Tormund has two daughters, so that's the reason they're not in this fic. But, I love fics with kids, so I've come up with a plot in which they can be brought into the story in a little while. I hope y'all get excited about this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoyyyyyy

Jon, unhappily, woke alone.

Well, partially alone, Ghost was there, nosing at his face and whining softly to wake him up. Jon rolled around with the beast for a few minutes, playing with him like he did when the wolf was smaller. Ghost growled playfully and nipped gently at Jon's hands, and Jon struggled to breathe as the wolf covered him in his heavyweight.

Jon dressed after that and ate some shitty porridge with Anelda and Genamyr before beginning his search for the fiery redheaded Chief. After asking a woman who was up from her tent and rocking a fussing baby if she'd seen him, he made his way to the small congregation tent, where all affairs that concerned the well-being of the clan, were discussed with Tormund and his chosen council, (Jon, of course, included).

The flaps to the tent were undone, so Jon stepped right inside, commanding Ghost to wait outside, which he begrudgingly did, huffing as he laid down and rested his head on his terrifyingly large paws. Jon found Tormund alone, sat down on the pelts used as a rug, with a piece of paper in his hand that he was intently reading. Jon's eyes flickered to the Raven perched on the lantern that sat in the corner.

Jon's brows pulled together as he looked at the man, and he was surprised. He'd naively thought that the Wildling wasn't able to read or write, but he then assumed that someone who'd joined the Free Folk, but not raised by them, had taught him.

"Hey," Jon greeted as the man hadn't seemed to realize that he'd arrived.

Sure enough, Tormund jumped slightly as he lifted his head. A grin spread on his lips when he saw him, "Morning, little crow," he said.

Tormund's grin was infectious, "Who's that from?" Jon asked, and sat down beside him, peaking at the letter.

"Castle Black. Edd," Tormund replied, scanning the letter for a few more moments before folding it closed, "He has an offer,"

Jon hummed, eyes flickering over Tormund's face, just appreciating the sight of him, "What is it?" he asked.

"He wants to set up a type of trading system between our clan and Castle Black," Tormund told him, turning to face him, and Jon felt a pang of butterflies when the man met his eyes. How blue they were always made Jon mesmerized. Tormund reached out and took Jon's waist, squeezing it gently, as he bent his head a little lower.

Jon swallowed, "What kind of trading system?" he asked.

"He wants to continue giving us supplies, food, bedding, materials to build the village, horses, things like that," Tormund started to explain, "In exchange, rangers are given a place to stay here in the camp, we keep them informed on the movement of other clans, especially the aggressive ones who could harm the rangers. He reckons there's herbs and plants that grow more out here, helpful to Maesters,"

Jon nodded, licking his lips once, "It'd be ridiculous to say no. Seems we have it pretty easy," he told the older man, and he could hear Ghost whining from outside the tent, not happy that he'd been commanded to stay outside.

"I agree," Tormund replied, groaning as he stood up, and Jon cringed when he loudly cracked his neck, "We'll go over it with the council, and then send a Raven back to Edd," he said as he held out his large hand for Jon.

Jon took it and made a noise of surprise when he barely even had the chance to get to his feet, Tormund easily yanking him upwards. Jon glared at him, but he had no heat behind it.

Tormund ran his hands from Jon's shoulders down to his waist, "You're on your own again today, have to head out with some others, check through the woods to make sure there's no signs of other clans, and to do a check on what predators are about, wolves especially," he told him.

Jon nodded, "Alright, I'll be seeing you tonight then," he replied, smiling up at Tormund for a moment before turning and stepping out of the tent. Ghost immediately stood from the snow-covered ground, and his tail wagged slowly at the sight of them.

Jon stepped over to him and stroked over his head. Tormund stopped by him, brushing his hand over his waist, "See you later, little crow," he murmured, and then walked away.

He watched him go.

 

* * *

 

Jon shivered as he rode his horse through the woods, it was another windy day, and Jon would have preferred to be in his and Tormund's tent, where it was much warmer, but there were traps out in the woods that had been set over the previous couple of days, and Jon had decided to be the one to go and check them.

He didn't have Ghost with him, which had him feeling particularly lonely, but he'd promised that the wolf could go with Genamyr as he took the children into the woods. He had Argo at least, and Jon loved the horse, but their bond wasn't like the one he had with Ghost.

Jon had already checked several of the traps, and found a rabbit in each of them, giving him a total of nine. He was about two hours from the plains and getting by the minute as the thick trees offered him no sun, and that snow was continually falling from the trees and coating him, making him shiver whenever he felt it touch his neck.

The woods were tranquil as he rode through them. He loved it some days, and he hated it others; today was a day he loved it. He could appreciate them for what they were, the snow that covered everything in sight, the icicles that hung from the trees, the still lush greens of the trees, it all came together to make a pretty picture, he thought that Arya and Sansa would like it.

He still hadn't informed his sisters and brother that he'd left the Night's Watch and was now a Wildling. He was too frightened to find out what their reactions would be.

Jon had been enjoying his ride too much, relaxing in the saddle, holding the reins loosely as he lazily looked around. It was his own fault that when an owl that he hadn't spotted, screeched loudly before taking off from a branch right by Argo's head, and Argo had spooked, sending Jon flying from the saddle.

He felt the pain burst in his ankle as he pulled at an odd angle as it slipped from the stirrup, and he let out a cry as he then landed on it. The snow managed to partially break his fall, but there was clearly a log beneath it that he'd landed on, and he could feel pain spreading through him.

He could hear hoof beats, and he forced himself to lift his head. He was able to spot Argo galloping away through the snowy trees, still spooked.

"Argo!" Jon yelled after him, but as expected, the horse made no move to slow down and was gone from sight after only a couple of moments.

Most of the pain in Jon's upper body from his fall was fading, but he became acutely aware of the harsh throbbing in his ankle. He placed his hands on the snow and forced himself to sit up. He looked down at his ankle, and he couldn't see anything wrong with it due to it being hidden by the boot covers, but he could definitely feel that something wasn't right.

"Shit," He hissed, licking over his lip and then using one hair to push his hair away. He looked out at the woods in front of him, down the path he'd just come. Two hours from the plains, even longer now that he didn't have Argo.

He took a moment to gather himself, and then using the tree beside him, stood up. He hovered his ankle above the ground, and he worried at his bottom lip for a moment and sucked in a deep breath before he placed his foot down on the ground.

He immediately cried out as the pain intensified, and he fell back to the ground. He let out a series of small whimpers as his ass connected with the snow again, and he clutched at his leg, lips trembling as he waited for the pain to calm down. Walking wasn't an option, that much was obvious.

His eyes flickered over the hoof prints left in the snow, and sighed, glaring at the empty space where Argo had disappeared.

 

* * *

  

Jon's hands shook as he curled them into fists. It was several hours after he'd fallen off Argo, and the pain in his ankle had only gotten worse. He'd tried walking twice, and both times ended with him collapsing to the snow in pain.

Now, he was absolutely freezing. The snow had started to come down harder, and the wind had picked up. The worst was that the snow he was laying on had melted beneath him, and the layers that once warmed him were now soaked and freezing him.

He had no source of warmth, and he was trembling as his teeth chattered, arms wrapped around himself, even though it would do nothing to help him.

He knew he was in danger. It was extremely cold, and with him being wet, he'd be in big trouble unless someone found him. His body would start shutting down.

 

* * *

 

Tormund had expected to find Jon in their tent, after not having spotted him anywhere else. He found Ghost in the tent, curled up on the pelts and fast asleep after a long day of repeatedly walking through the woods, and dealing with a bunch of children that thought he was the coolest thing in the world.

Tormund had petted the wolf for a moment and then left the tent again. Tormund sighed scanning the camp for any sign of the dark-haired man and began walking moments after his eyes fell on Anelda and Genamyr's tent; the couple were Jon's closest friends, and if he wasn't in their own tent, he was most likely to be there.

The scouting trip out into the woods had been successful, there was no sign of predators large enough to hurt them, and also nothing to suggest that there were other Wildlings in the area.

"Tormund, hi," Anelda greeted when she saw him, pretty smiling lighting up her features.

Tormund tilted his head in response, "Where's Jon?" he rumbled.

Genamyr leaned back against Anelda, her fingers brushing through his hair, "He went out in the morning to check the traps. He'll be back before dark," he told him, giving him a small smile.

Tormund nodded and looked out towards the woods, wondering whereabouts Jon was, "Alright," he said, deciding that he'd go back to his and Jon's campsite and tidy it a little, and get the fire going for the night, "Find me if you see him come back,"

"Will do," Genamyr replied.

 

* * *

 

Jon's eyes had never felt so heavy throughout his entire life.

His whole body felt numb, and all he had an irresistible urge to go to sleep. The snow that was falling coated his body now, he'd stopped having the energy to brush it off long ago. It was like a blanket, a cold, painful blanket to lull him off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Tormund had been skinning a rabbit when he heard Anelda yell for him. His head snapped up and spotted her by her tent, and she was pointing. His eyes moved to where her fingers were pointing, and he felt a twist in his gut when he saw Argo trotting across the plains and back at the camp, and Jon wasn't in the saddle.

He dropped the rabbit he was holding and started darting through the camp, weaving around tents and fires to reach Anelda. He could see that Genamyr was already jogging across the snow to reach the horse.

"Can you see him anywhere?" Tormund asked her, eyes frantic as they searched the tree line, looking for the familiar crow coat.

Anelda shook her head as she frowned deeply, "No. The horse must have thrown him," she murmured, and then she looked up, Tormund met her eyes, "He could be hurt,"

Tormund's gut twisted, "He could be," he replied, and then nodded towards Genamyr, "Tell him to calm down the horse and get on it, I'll meet him out there," he said quickly, and he could see Anelda nod before he took off again.

After jogging back to his tent to collect Ghost, as the dire wolf would be able to sniff Jon out, and then tack up his own horse, Tormund joined Genamyr on the plains.

They didn't waste time in galloping the horses across the plains to reach the woods, Ghost beside them. Ghost knew something was wrong when Tormund had abruptly woken him from his sleep, and all Tormund had needed to say was 'find Jon' to make the beast wide awake and anxious.

Genamyr and Tormund planned to follow the traps set, they were able to get a rough idea of Jon's direction judging by what traps had been emptied, and it was easier for Ghost to find his scent.

 

* * *

  

After two hours, there was no sign of Jon, but Ghost was confident as he stepped through the trees, so Tormund knew that the animal must have a strong scent. The sun was starting to set, and the temperature was dropping by the minute, and Tormund's worry was rising by the second.

Jon was bad enough with the cold as it was, he didn't need to be injured and laying out in the snow too. Tormund knew all of the complications that could bring, and he felt sick at the thought of finding the younger man's lifeless body in the snow.

"There!" Genamyr shouted, gaining Tormund's attention.

He looked to where Ghost was now bounding through the snow, barking as he did. Tormund looked past Ghost as he moved his horse into a trot after him, eyes scanning the snow. It took a few moments, but he eventually spotted Jon. He was a lump in the snow, barely visible beneath the snow that covered him, and he was terrifying still.

Ghost was whining and nosing at Jon's face when Tormund and Genamyr reached them. He dismounted the horse quicker than he ever had before and collapsed to his knees down beside Jon.

He rolled the man onto his back, and Genamyr started brushing the snow from him. He was unconscious, cheeks flushed pink, and Tormund felt his heart sink when he felt Jon's clothes were soaked.

"Fuck," He hissed, and he watched with his heart pounding in his chest as Genamyr leaned down and placed his head over Jon's.

"He's breathing," Genamyr said after a moment, and Tormund let out a sigh of relief.

Tormund grabbed Jon and hefted him up, "Let's go, we need to get him back to camp," he said, holding Jon's small and cold body against him, "Get him up on the horse with me,"

 

* * *

 

Anelda hurried after Tormund as he carried Jon through the camp, Genamyr having gone to collect the healer from his own tent.

Anelda held the flaps open for him, and then he carried him inside. He laid Jon down on the space beside the pelts, not wanting to wet them if they were going to be the things to keep him warm.

"We need to get his clothes off," Anelda told him as she squatted down beside Jon, fingers already working on the ties of his breeches. Ghost entered the tent then, laying down by Jon's head and continuing to whimper.

Tormund nodded and started to pull off the pelts that covered Jon's body, a pile by the lantern in the corner of the tent growing.

"Is he injured?" Anelda asked, her voice filled with worry as she looked at the state her friend was in.

"Don't know," Tormund mumbled as he got to the final layer of Jon's clothing, and he lifted the man into a sitting position so that he could pull the shirt off him, he ignored the pang of anger he felt when his eyes fell on the scars that decorated his chest, the ones that the people who were supposed to be loyal to him left.

Tormund's lips parted when Anelda pulled Jon's breeches and underwear down his legs, stopping when they got stuck above his boots, so she started taking those off instead. Jon was completely naked just a few moments later, pale skin exposed, and if Tormund weren't so worried, he'd love it.

"Ah, there's the problem," Anelda murmured as she tossed the last items of clothing.

Tormund looked down and found that Anelda was gently examining Jon's foot. At first, he didn't see anything, but then he looked closer and could see that the bone in the man's ankle, clearly wasn't in the right place.

"That explains why he didn't walk back," Tormund said, hoping that Genamyr would arrive with the healer soon.

Anelda hummed, and then crawled across the tent to pull the pelts back, "Let's get him under," she said.

Tormund nodded and shifted to pick Jon up, his skin was cold were Tormund's hands gripped his back and thigh. He laid Jon down, and Anelda allowed Ghost to lay down beside Jon and curl up next to him before she pulled the pelts down again over the both of them, tucking them under Jon's neck.

Tormund brushed his hand from Jon's hair, down to his jaw. Jon looked like he was sleeping, but Tormund knew it was more serious than that, especially when Ghost laid his head down on Jon's chest with a soft whine.

Anelda got his attention again, "Alright, you need to strip down and get in there with him. He needs the body heat," She told him, and raised a brow when he didn't reply for several moments, "Tormund," she repeated.

Tormund cleared his throat awkwardly and then nodded. He took his boots off first, tossing them beside Jon's before working on the rest of his clothes while Anelda pulled the pelts up enough to expose Jon's injured foot.

It only took a minute or so for Tormund to get all of his clothes off, (excluding his boxers which he decided to leave on), and he crawled under the pelts and pulled Jon's unconscious body to him. He wrapped his arms around him tight and tried to ignore that he could feel Jon's cock pressing against his thigh.

He knew that Jon could be upset about this when he woke up, but Tormund would rather take Jon being mad at him, instead of him dying. Tormund didn't want to think about that. He'd seen Jon die once before, and he'd been devastated enough then, he didn't want that to happen again. He'd lost a lot of people of the last couple of years, and he couldn't bear Jon being one of them.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the camp quiet as everyone slept, Jon finally began to stir on Tormund's arms.

Tormund looked down at the man who was curled against him and gently brushed his fingers through his hair as he waited for his eyes to open. It's what the healer of the clan had told him would happen, Jon would wake after a few hours after he warmed up, and would more than likely be confused, and in pain from his dislocated ankle.

"Hey, little crow," Tormund whispered when Jon's brown eyes opened, the man blinking around confused.

Jon frowned looked up at him and tried to sit up, but Tormund held him in place, "Where am I?" he asked, handing grabbing Tormund's hip hard and squeezing.

"In our tent," Tormund replied, cupping his cheek to brush his thumb over his face, hoping to keep him calm, "Argo came back without you, so Ghost, Genamyr and I went into the woods. We found you a couple of hours deep, lying in the snow," he explained.

Jon licked at his lips and looked around the tent, "Argo got spooked… an owl," He started, "My foot, I couldn't walk,"

Tormund nodded, rubbing Jon's back, "You dislocated your ankle, healer fixed it up for you. It hurts, but you're gonna be fine my little crow," he reassured him, smiling softly and feeling a fondness for Jon with how cute he looked; sleepy, flushed cheeks, confused expression.

Jon frowned, and squirmed a little, "Tormund, why am I naked?" he asked, pointedly moving his crotch back from where it had been pressed against Tormund's thigh for the last few hours, "And why are you?"

Tormund chuckled softly, "Your clothes were soaked, and you needed to warm up. That's all," he replied, pushing on the back of Jon's head to encourage him to lay it down again.

Jon frowned at him, eyes curious, but laid his head down again.

He was asleep again in moments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tells Tormund his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pics at the end of the girls that inspired Tormund's daughters for when they appear (in probably still quite a few chapters), and also the horses for funzies. 
> 
> HELP ME NAME TORMUND'S OLDEST DAUGHTER PLEASE

Jon blinked the blurriness out of his eyes as he woke up, wincing as he quickly felt the throbbing pain in his head, sitting right behind his eyebrows. He groaned and lifted his head slightly, then jumped a little when a hand was flattened against his head, and gently pushed down.

"Don't get up," Tormund's deep voice met his ears, and Jon realized that his head was pillowed on the large man's chest.

Jon licked his lips once, "Tormund," he murmured softly, finding his hand pressed against the man's hip, and he moved it up to spread it over his stomach. He realized that the redhead was still naked except for the material of his underwear that Jon could feel against his thigh. His cheeks flushed, and he felt butterflies start to swirl in his stomach, very aware that he was completely naked, and that Tormund was probably the one to have gotten him naked.

"How do you feel?" The redheaded Wildling asked, his fingers starting to gently brush through his hair.

It felt nice, and Jon sighed softly when the man scratched his fingernails against his scalp, "Tired, head's throbbing," he murmured.

"It's been a few hours since you first woke up, Healer just said that you needed to get some rest and stay warm," Tormund told him, and Jon could feel his warm breath fluttering over his forehead.

He frowned a little in confusion, "Healer?" he murmured, he remembered Tormund saying it when he'd first woken up.

Tormund huffed a soft laugh and ran his hand down Jon's back, and he shuddered at what it felt like to have his hand on his bare skin, "I guess that you could call them the Free Folk's Maesters," he answered.

"Oh," Jon replied, and tried to think what Tormund had said was wrong with his foot hours earlier. He gave up after a few moments, "What did I do to my foot?" he asked.

"Dislocated it," He replied, "Don't remember?"

Jon shook his head against him, Tormund quickly pushing away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, "No, I remember you telling me, just not what you told me," he murmured, eyes already feeling heavy again even though he'd only just woken up.

Tormund hummed, and Jon could feel the man's broad chest rising and falling beneath his head as he breathed in and out, "You said you fell of Argo, do you remember that?" he asked.

"An owl spooked him, I wasn't paying attention,"

"Wouldn't have been your fault," Tormund said, large fingers beginning to draw patterns on the soft skin of his back.

Jon grunted a little, too tired to argue with the older man about it, "Did the Healer say my ankle will be fine?" he asked, hoping that he'd be back to his normal self soon, and wouldn't be left with permanent damage.

Tormund's fingers were in his hair again, and Jon's eyes fluttered closed, "You need to be off it for a couple of days, and take it easy, but yes," he replied, and then proceeded to yawn heavily into his elbow.

Jon smiled a little, and lifted his head, which Tormund allowed, to look up at him, "Are you tired?" he asked.

Tormund smiled at him almost fondly, and Jon could see that his eyes were red and that the man did, in fact, look very tired, "I am, little crow. I haven't let myself go to sleep, waiting for you to wake up again," he said and pushed on Jon's head.

Jon huffed but tore his gaze away from the man's gorgeous blue eyes, and laid his head down on his chest again, "Well, I'm fine, so go to sleep," he told him.

Tormund laughed, "Shouldn't I be the one worried about you?" he grunted, squeezing Jon's waist playfully, which made him squirm.

Jon rolled his very heavy eyes, "How 'bout we both go to sleep," he mumbled, closing his eyes again and letting out a heavy sigh.

Tormund's chest rumbled with his soft laugh, and his arm settled over Jon's shoulders, "Alright, little crow, let's get some sleep," he whispered, and Jon felt him kiss the top of his head.

 

* * *

   
  
"When are you going to let me work again?" Jon sighed as he stared up at Tormund, the man pulling pelts over his under-clothes.

"When you can,"

Jon tried not to roll his eyes, but failed, "I can work. I can't ride again just yet, but I can help with building. My arms work fine," he argued, even though he knew that it was hopeless. It had been over a week since he'd sustained his injury, and he was sick of being cooped up inside his and Tormund's tent.

"Don't matter," Tormund replied, pulling on his last pelt and resting his hands on his hips, "Your ass is staying either in here or at the fire for at least another week. The Healer said you need to rest it, and that's what you're going to do. If you go any further than that fire for a reason other than taking a piss, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry your short-ass right back," He told him, eyebrows raised, and Jon knew that he was damn serious, and Jon didn't feel like being humiliated in front of the entire clan of Wildlings.

He groaned and dropped his head back, "Fucking hell," he muttered, "I followed you beyond the wall to be a free man, and yet you imprison me in our tent," he said dramatically.

Tormund laughed, shaking his head and running a hand through his beard for a moment, "You are a free man, Jon Snow," he started, meeting his eyes with a smirk playing on his lips, "But, I'm your Chief, and you still need to listen to me," he said, and Jon couldn't deny that was true.

So, he just rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, "Fuck you," he said.

Tormund threw a pelt at him, "I'll see you later, little crow," he called and then proceeded to leave the tent.

Jon glared after him.

 

* * *

 

"I brought lunch," Tormund said as he crawled into the tent, and proceeded to throw an apple at Jon.

Jon let out a startled noise as it connected with his chest, and then grunted when he felt the dull ache begin, "You couldn't have just handed it to me?" he grumbled as he picked the fruit up from where it had fallen onto the pelts.

Tormund didn't reply and hummed as he laid down on the pelts beside him, sighing heavily and bring his own apple to his mouth, taking a large bite from it, "The council agreed with Ed's offer," he said, lolling his head to the side to look at Jon.

Jon nodded, "That's good," he said, "May spare some lives getting through the winter,"

The redhead nodded in agreement, "We can only hope so," he replied, "You haven't told your brother and sisters where you are, have you?"

Jon sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "Told them what I am? A Wildling," he laughed softly like he usually did when he recalled who he was now, knowing it suited him more than any title ever had, "I don't know what they'd think of it. I know I will tell them, I just need to get used to the way I'm living now before they have to as well,"

Tormund nodded, "Okay," he said simply, easily understanding what Jon had meant. He cleared his throat then, and then started to speak again, "You know, I had a brother," he said softly.

Jon raised a brow and turned his head to look at him, "You did?" he asked, continuing to eat his apple.

Tormund nodded, "My mother was pregnant when our village here was taken over. She gave birth when we were traveling, she died a couple of hours after," he told him, his voice quiet as he managed to keep eye-contact with Jon.

Jon swallowed thickly, that was something he had recently become all too familiar with, "Your brother?" he asked.

"He didn't make it through the Winter, died in his sleep a few months after he was born," Tormund replied, and Jon could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke, "Had been expecting it, he'd been sick for a while,"

"I'm sorry," Jon said gently, reaching over and gently squeezing Tormund's arm.

Tormund smiled a little, "It was a long time ago, but I understand what you've been feeling the past years," he said.

Jon nodded, squeezed his arm again, "I know you do," he murmured, and then sighed heavily, "I want to tell you something,"

"You can," Tormund replied, eyes soft before he took the last few bites of his apple.

Jon swallowed, quiet for a moment before continued, "I had a claim to the Iron Throne," He spat out.

"I know that," Tormund said, brows pulled in confusion.

Jon shook his head, "No, not a claim I'd earned through the things I did. It was a real claim, a blood claim, stronger than what Daenerys' was. She knew it too, and I know she would have killed me, even though I didn't want it because it's what the North would have wanted. She saw that she'd never have their loyalty like I did," His eyes teared up as he thought of the friend that he'd killed, held her in his arms as she died, and watched with an aching heart as her child carried her body away.

"How did you have a blood claim, Jon?" Tormund asked, and his voice was full of curiosity.

"My father died before he could tell me who my mother was," he started, staring into Tormund's eyes, "Sam, at the Citadel, found the journals of an old Maester, who documented the marriage of Rhaegar Targaryen to Lyanna Stark, my aunt. Bran, in his visions, saw my father with Lyanna, after the Mad King and Raegar Targaryen had been killed, in an old tower. Lyanna was bleeding out in her birthing bed, my father was handed a baby," His voice shook a little, and he wiped at his wet eyes before he continued, "Lyanna told him that his name was Aegon Targaryen and that he had to keep him safe. Robert Baratheon would kill him because he was the heir to the Iron Throne," Jon paused again, "So, my father took the baby back to Winterfell, and raised him as his bastard son,"

Tormund blinked at him, lips slightly parted, "You're Aegon Targaryen?" he murmured.

Jon nodded, "Son of Raegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, heir to the Iron Throne, nephew of Daenerys Targaryen,"

"Who knows?" Tormund asked softly, fear in his voice like Jon would be whisked away from the True North to King's Landing and forced to be King.

"You," Jon started, stating the obvious first, "Sansa, Arya, Bran, Sam, Tyrion. I know they have no desire to share it now that Bran and Sansa are the King and Queen,"

Tormund grinned, "If Sam knows, then Gilly knows,"

Jon laughed, "Yeah," he agreed.

Tormund rolled over so that he was facing him, grabbing Jon's waist, "I say that you'll always be my King, that's because I believed in you the most," he said, eyes boring into his own as he spoke, "But really, to me, you're not the former King of the North, Former Lord Commander, heir to the Iron Throne, fucking none of that matters to me. You're Jon Snow,"

Jon stared at him, a lump forming in his throat as he took in the older man's words. One of Tormund's hand brushed through his hair, and the other started to rub up and down his back, affectionate touches that Jon loved so much and was beginning to let himself enjoy instead of feeling guilty for being who he was.

He sucked in a deep breath, it was shaky, and he could feel his eyes wet with tears, and he was sick of being so emotional, but he couldn't stop it.

"I'm gay," He blurted out, heart pounding in his chest as he did, and he could feel his hands shaking. That was the first time he'd said it out loud before, it was the first time he'd ever told anyone.

Tormund's lips pulled in a smile, and Jon could see the fondness in his eyes, "My Jon Snow," he murmured, and then pulled Jon to him.

Jon smiled as he wound his arms around the redheaded Wildling, burying his face in his neck, his chest feeling a tonne lighter.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 **Argo** \- Jon's horse

 

 

 **Hrenna** \- Tormund's horse (Ignore the horse in this photo is a gelding when Hrenna is a mare, this horse just suited what I imagined Hrenna looking like best)

 

 **Tormund's oldest daughter** (Age 8-10, I haven't decided, y'all probably recognise her as Max from Stranger Things aha) 

Names (help me choose) - Elra, Minda, Kalsa, Valrin, Velrine

 

 **Tormund's youngest daughter** (Age 5) 

Brinna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write their first kiss at the end there, but I felt it made much more sense for Jon to finally admit outloud and tell someone that he was gay, which is a massive step towards him and Tormund getting together. (The word gay doesn't seem to be used in the GOT universe, but I don't care)
> 
> * As I'm writing Jon as gay in this fic, he never had a sexual relationship with either Ygritte or Daenerys, but he did have close friendships with them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Anelda talk, and Tormund also talks, while quite drunk.

"So," Anelda said as Jon sat down beside her and started working on stitching buttons into one of Tormund's shirts that he'd ruined long ago.

"So, what?" Jon replied, glancing up at her with a small frown.

She smirked back at him, glancing towards where Ghost and Balrik were playing on the snow before she met his eyes again, "So," she started again, tucking hair behind her ears before she continued, "What are you and Tormund doing?" she asked.

His brows pulled together, "What do you mean?" he asked, wincing and swearing when he accidentally stabbed himself with the sewing needle.

Anelda snorted at him and reached out to ruffle his hair, "Watch what you're doing until you know how to properly do it," she scolded him, and he knocked their shoulders together in reply, "Now, what I meant, is you and Tormund, are you together? Are you just fucking? Are you in love?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at him.

Jon's cheeks flushed, and he felt nerves bubble in his stomach, "There's something there, definitely," he replied after a few moments of silence, doing what she said and focusing on the buttons he was stitching into the shirt.

"What kind of something?" Anelda replied, working on sharpening one of her knives.

Jon sighed, and lifted his head, he looked over to where he could currently see Tormund and Genamyr standing by the lake with their fishing poles thrown into the freezing cold water. They'd been in the camp for a few weeks now, and Jon and Tormund would be moving into the Chief's cabin in a few days. It had taken longer than expected as Tormund had given priority to getting those with children shelter first, just another reason why Jon admired him so much.

"Jon, I feel you need to talk about this," Anelda said after he hadn't said anything in a while, and her hand landed on his thigh, squeezing affectionately, "I don't care what you say, I'll listen, even if it doesn't make sense," she said.

Jon met her eyes, nibbled at the inside of his cheek for a moment, and then forced himself to speak, "I want to fall in love with him," he said softly, a lump forming in his throat, "And I know I am, that I will be, but it's just such a hard thing to accept. Out here, men lay with men, and it's normal, back in Westeros, I'd be executed for it,"

"You have an idea that it's wrong stuck in your head?" Anelda asked, expression soft as she looked at him.

He nodded, "Yeah, and Tormund's helped me with it, he really has, I'm slowly starting to accept myself for what I am. I'm getting used to him being so affectionate with me, and I want more of it," he sighed heavily, looking over at Tormund again, looking so handsome with a smile lighting up his face, and snow stuck in his beard, "I want everything with him,"

He almost jumped when Anelda cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together, "You shouldn't be afraid," she murmured, her fingers brushing through his hair, "Fear can destroy things for you. You never know what happens tomorrow, you shouldn't be wasting the time you have right now," she told him.

Jon could feel tears prickling in his eyes at her words, and he nodded once, "Okay," he murmured.

She laughed softly, and lifted her head to kiss his forehead, "You came out here to start a new life, Jon, don't sit around waiting for everything to fall into place because that's not how it works," she told him, pulling back and staring into his eyes.

"I've got to do something about it," he whispered.

"That's my boy," she said, grinning and she patted his cheek softly, kissing it and then returning to sharpening her knife.

Jon looked at her for a moment, and then his gaze flickered over to Tormund. He flushed when the older man looked up by chance and met his gaze, Tormund raised his hand in a small wave and smiled his beautiful smile. Jon smiled back and nodded his head once.

Genamyr took Tormund's shoulder and took his attention from Jon away. Jon watched him for several minutes after that, fascinated in how easily he held up a large beam of wood that was being used to create the framing of Genamyr's and Anelda's hut. Tormund's strength had always amazed Jon.

He'd seen the man lift another man up and throw him against a wall so hard he cracked his skull, he'd seen him snap someone's neck with his bare hands. He's seen how effortlessly he took down tens of White Walkers and Wights.

Tormund had mentioned to Jon that he knew what he wanted (Jon) and had known for a long time. Ever since Jon had wondered how long that time was. How long it was just an attraction before the redhead started to get real feelings for him. Jon had realized Tormund was attractive quickly after he met him, finding himself staring at the older man despite Ygritte's advances on him (she'd backed off once she'd realized he wasn't interested and saw how he was looking at Tormund). Jon had recognized his feelings for Tormund after the loyalty the man had shown to him after he'd come back from the dead. Jon wondered when those moments were for Tormund.

Jon wanted to know what it would feel like to properly be with Tormund, to be claimed by him, so the rest of the camp knew that he was Tormund's, to maybe even marry him one day. Jon was excited to move into their cabin together, to be able to sleep in the warmth of the fire, to be able to bathe without feeling like he was going to get frostbite. He wanted to share a bed with Tormund, kiss him goodnight and good morning. He wanted to know what it felt like to be with Tormund sexually, he wanted to know how the older man would fuck him, how many different ways they could make each other come.

He tore his mind out of that place, he was still with Anelda, and he didn't need to be getting hard in front of her.

 

* * *

  

Jon smiled as he approached Tormund, the man laughing loudly as he drank from his wineskin and sat with a group of his friends, the lot of them laughing loudly.

"My little crow!" Tormund shouted when he saw him.

Jon reached for him, placing his hands on his shoulders as he came to a stop in front of where he was sat, the other watching on as Tormund grabbed his hips and smiled up at him, "You look utterly pissed," he said, he could see the man's face was flushed red in the light of the fire.

"Had a lot to drink, pup!" Tormund replied, swaying his wineskin and then swallowing back another mouthful.

Jon chuckled, "Come on then, I think it's time for bed," he said, tugging on Tormund's hands.

Tormund drooped his wineskin to the ground and shoved his face into Jon's stomach, which made him let out a startled noise of surprise, and the others around them laughed.

Jon swallowed and threaded his fingers into Tormund's hair, and tugged on it, eyes widening and cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he heard Tormund moan against his stomach. He whacked him up the side of the head and then stepped back, keeping hold of Tormund's hand and pulling in an attempt to get him to stand up.

Tormund did as Jon told him too, and got to his feet, quickly tucking Jon under his arm and then cheering at his friends before he let Jon drag him off.

Jon snorted with laughter as he watched Tormund almost fall through their tent, and quickly collapse down on their mass of pelts beside Ghost.

Jon rolled his eyes at him, "Come on, got to get your boots and your outer-clothes off," he said and started unlacing Tormund's boots.

Tormund rumbled and mostly laid still as Jon started to undress him, smirking up at him and looking like he would fall asleep in minutes, "You're so pretty, Jon Snow," he said softly, a hand reaching and grabbing Jon's waist, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen,"

Jon smiled a little at the words falling from Tormund's drunken lips, pulling his coat off and beginning to fold it, "Thank you, Tormund," he said, his cheeks flushing red.

Tormund grinned wider, shifting closer to him and trying to pull him to him, "I mean it," he grunted, "So pretty," his hand moved to Jon's cheek as he laid down beside him and tucked the pelts over the both of them. Jon watched as Tormund licked his lips, and he felt a swirl in his gut, "You must be fucking gorgeous when you come,"

Jon's eyes widened, and he shook his head, "Tormund stop," he murmured, and he refused to let his cock get hard.

"Mouth spread all wide, eyes squeezed closed," Tormund stared right into Jon's eyes, shifting the littlest bit closer, "Sweet noises filling our cabin,"

Jon swallowed and rolled over, so his back was to the older man. As much as he'd realized he wanted it, Tormund was drunk, and he wanted the man to be perfectly sober when they took the next step. He wanted to know Tormund was kissing him with an entirely conscious mind, Jon needed to make sure that he was Tormund's choice.

"Get some sleep," he said softly, using his bicep as a pillow and waiting for his pounding heart to calm down.

Tormund rumbled and crawled up behind him, throwing an arm over Jon's middle as he usually did, and pressing his face into his neck as he let out a heavy sigh, "I've never slept as good as I do with you," he whispered, his warm breath fluttering over his cheek, "You still have your nightmares though, I wish I could stop them,"

Jon frowned as he listened to Tormund's slurred voice, "You make it better when I do have them," he whispered, reaching down to hold Tormund's better, "You make everything better,"

He could feel Tormund smile against his neck.

 

* * *

 

"How's your head?" Jon asked as he and Tormund walked around the perimeter of the clearing. He'd been told by the healer that he needed to do some light exercise to get the strength back in his ankle, and that walking was what she was currently recommending he do.

Tormund looked over at him with a small glare, "Cheeky crow," he grunted.

Jon laughed, quite enjoying a grumpy hangover-ridden Tormund. He took a step closer to him and playfully knocked their shoulders together, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, it's good to see you relax," he told the older man, grinning up at him.

Tormund's lips pulled in a gentle smile, and he took Jon's hand, "You should too," he said.

"You know what?" Jon replied, swinging Tormund's hand playfully, "I am relaxed, well the most I have been in a long time,"

"Well, that's good to hear, little crow," The redhead said.

Jon was quiet for a moment, and then sucked in a breath and came to a stop, using his grip on Tormund's hand to pull him so that he was standing in front of him. Tormund's expression was soft as he looked down at him, and he didn't hesitate in using his free hand to take Jon's waist.

Jon gave him a smile, "Do you remember some of the things you said to me last night?" he asked, angry butterflies soaring in his stomach as he stared up at the much taller man, "When I got you back to the tent,"

Tormund froze for a moment. He licked his lips and then pulled his hand from Jon's to cup his head instead, brushing his fingers through his hair, "I remember telling you how beautiful I thought you were, that I wished I could stop your nightmares," he replied after being silent for several moments.

Jon leaned into his touch, he loved when Tormund played with his hair. He closed his eyes and took a step closer to Tormund, sliding his hands around his lower back, "You remember telling me how you wanted to see me come?" he asked, and he almost grinned when he heard Tormund's breath hitch, "Wanted to hear what noises I'd make?" he lifted his head higher, and stood up onto his toes so he could be a bit closer.

"What are you up to, little crow?" Tormund murmured, pushing Jon's hair away from his face and then tangling his fingers in it, lifting his other hand to gently hold the side of his neck. The man's blue eyes bored down into Jon's dark ones, his gaze was so intense it made Jon swallow.

Jon let his eyes flutter closed, "I don't want to wait around anymore," he whispered, "I've had enough of letting my own fears getting in the way of me being happy with you," his heart pounded in his chest as he spoke, afraid he'd be faced with the rejection that had been all too common throughout his life.

Tormund leaned down because Jon couldn't go any taller, and he rested their foreheads together, "You're my little crow, Jon Snow," he murmured, "You going to let me claim you?" he asked.

Jon nodded quickly, pulling Tormund as close to him as he could, "Please," he murmured, "You've been the most constant thing in my life for years, and I don't want that to change. I want to be yours,"

Tormund's hands shifted to cup Jon's cheeks, and he tilted his head as he leaned forward.

Jon gasped softly as Tormund's lips pressed against his own. The gentleness of Tormund's lips was a contrast to his rough beard that tickled and scratched his face, and he held him tighter, pressing his lips back again the older man's harder. It's what he'd been thinking of for so long, and he moaned softly at how good it felt to finally have it.

Tormund took that opportunity to slip his tongue inside of his mouth and kiss him deeper, and Jon could feel their passion seeping together as they held each other and let everything they were feeling be shown in that kiss. Their lips moved together in sync, gentle smacking noises able to be heard over the soft breeze fluttering through the nearby trees.

Jon didn't think of the rules and opinions of those back in Westeros, what would have been done to him if people knew what he was. None of that mattered to him anymore, all he could think of was Tormund.

Tormund's body pressing against him, Tormund's lips moving against his own. Tormund's large hands on his face, stroking over his cheekbones.

Tormund. Tormund. Tormund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god!!! So happy I could finally write their first kiss!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund shares his secrets and cries, and the clan receives a Raven from Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of a break from writing this fic because I could feel myself losing inspiration for it, which sometimes happens when I do a bunch of updates really quickly. But, now we're back with one of my favorite chapters yet!

Another week came and went, and it continued to get colder in the True North. Jon, after Tormund's encouragement, had accepted the role of his second in command and had stepped up within the clan. He had the people's respect, and they listened to him. It still felt strange giving out orders to his friends sometimes, but he was starting to get used to it. It was like his time as Lord Commander.

Tormund was giving Jon more responsibilities, which Jon didn't mind, he saw how much Tormund did and how it often left him very stressed, so he was glad to take some of the weight of his shoulders, he just had to become accustomed to it.

It was after dark now, and Jon had just finished his last job for the day, arranging the hunting parties for the next couple of weeks. The wind was coming in as it got later, and Jon hurried to get to his and Tormund's cabin before the snow started to fall.

He loved their cabin. It had been finished a couple of days ago, and he and Tormund didn't hesitate in moving in. It had turned out larger than Jon was expecting, it had separate rooms and all. There was the main entrance room, where pretty much everything was, including their large bed and the fireplace that kept them nice and cozy during the night. The other two rooms were a small bathroom and a spare room that Tormund had told Jon not to worry about. That had made Jon curious, but he saw the look in Tormund's eye when he spoke, and he knew that the man didn't want to talk.

After stopping briefly to check on Anelda who was on bed rest for a couple of days due having experienced some cramping, which had had everyone worried before the healer told everyone that she was fine, Jon arrived at the cabin. He pushed open the door and was about to call out and announce his arrival to Tormund, but he managed to stop before the words came out when he saw Tormund laying on top of their bed, fast asleep. He'd gotten out of his day clothes and looked very comfortable with his head resting against Jon's pillow.

He spotted Ghost in the corner then, sat in his bed and chewing on a bone, wagging his tail at the appearance of his master.

Jon decided to leave Tormund for a few minutes, using the toilet and getting changed before he crept over to the bed, petting Ghost along the way. He laid down beside the older man, propping himself up on an elbow above him and then cupping his cheek softly. He brushed his fingers through the redhead's beard before leaning down and kissing him softly.

Tormund stirred beneath him, and Jon smiled when he rumbled before throwing an arm over Jon's lower back and deepening their kiss, clearly awake now. Jon loved kissing him, he loved it so much. Since their first kiss a week ago, Jon had been kissing Tormund almost every chance he could, not caring if they were around the other Wildlings, who had apparently known there was something between them for a long time now. So, Jon didn't care that they looked, or whooped or made crude comments, all he cared about was that he could kiss Tormund now, and nobody would be judging him for it.

"Hey, little crow," Tormund greeted him when they kiss finally came to an end, lifting one of his large hands to brush his fingers through Jon's hair.

"Hi," Jon replied, grinning and despite how much he and Tormund had been kissing, he knew that his cheeks were flushed a deep red. Tormund teased him about it a lot, "You look cute when you're sleeping," Jon murmured, deciding to be the one to tease Tormund for once.

Tormund chuckled, shaking his head, "You always look so pretty to me, Jon Snow," he said, "That was the first thing I thought when I saw you, how fucking pretty you were, and then you got down on your knees, and I started thinking some other things, but that was the first,"

Jon flushed deeper in embarrassment, and he laughed, shaking his head and ducking it down to rest against Tormund's chest, his ears feeling hot. Tormund wrapped his arms around him and kissed his head, before rolling over so that Jon was off him.

Jon frowned up at the man when he sat up, he wasn't ready for their cuddling session to end quite yet.

Tormund smiled at him, pecked him and the stood up, "I've been lazy and napped, let me cook dinner for us," he said, squeezing Jon's thigh and then moving to where his coat and warmer clothes hung by the door, "I won't be long, the fish is already descaled, gutted and cut, just need to cook it," he said.

Jon huffed but watched him go but sat up and decided to roughhouse with Ghost while he waited.

 

* * *

   
  
They were quiet as they ate their dinner in front of the fire. Jon wanted a table and chairs, but there were obviously more important things that needed to be done first before small details like that, so he was okay with sitting on the floor for a little while longer.

Jon was staring at the flames of the fire, ignoring the sounds of Tormund ripping apart his fish with his fingers and Ghost crunching on his bone. His thoughts were running wild, making up things, and remembering things. As he often did, he found himself thinking of Hardhome, walking through the camp of Wildlings and feeling extremely uneasy at the number of eyes on him, they'd all wanted him dead them, but now, they respected him as much as Tormund. He remembered the woman, Karsi, that he wished he could have got to know better, asking Tormund if he trusted Jon.

And then, Jon froze, hand hovering above his plate of fish and his lips parting.

Tormund's voice rung through his head, the image of him smirking with both of his hands resting on his hips.

_He's prettier than both my daughters._

A lump started to form in his throat, and he looked at the man who sat beside him. He opened his mouth and tried to force words out of his mouth. How could he have forgotten that? How the fuck, could he have forgotten that Tormund had children? Then Jon's stomach filled with dread, he'd never met the girls, and Tormund hadn't mentioned them after that, and neither had anyone else in the clan. Jon knew that if they were still around, he would have met, or at least seen them by now.

"What's the matter?"

He jumped when he heard Tormund, and met the man's eyes, finding him staring at him with a deep frown on his face. Jon swallowed, and tried to suck in a breath when Tormund reached out and squeezed his knee, Jon forced himself to speak, "I just remembered something," he told him.

"What?" Tormund asked, rubbing his leg and trying to hide how worried he looked.

"That you have two daughters," Jon replied, biting his lip as he waited for Tormund's response. Tormund stared back at him, and Jon caught the way his eyes quickly watered, and his heart started to pound in his chest, "Tormund," he whispered, taking his hand.

Tormund let out a shaky breath, "Don't make me talk about it," he replied, his jaw clenching.

Jon wanted him to, he wanted to know what had happened to them, where they were. He wanted Tormund to open up to him, but no, he wouldn't force Tormund to talk. He knew that the man would come to him if he wanted to.

"Okay," Jon said softly, squeezing his hand and scooting closer to him, and he just wanted to hold him. Tormund let him.

 

* * *

 

It had been awkward between them the rest of the night, Tormund was quiet and unwilling to return any of Jon's attempts at conversation, and Jon was antsy and desperate for Tormund to just speak to him.

They were in bed now, in their sleep clothes and Jon curled up against the older man's side, using his chest as a pillow. Tormund had been stiff but had wrapped an arm around Jon's back a few minutes ago, so he considered that it had improved.

Jon couldn't stop himself, Tormund was pretending to be asleep, but he wasn't very good at it, Jon knew what his breathing sounded like when he was sleeping, and that wasn't it, "You can talk to me, Tormund," he whispered, drawing patterns over the man's ribcage, "You let me talk all the time, I want you to do the same. I want to know,"

Tormund didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken to him. It made Jon's heart sink, and he let out a sad sigh, squeezing Tormund a little tighter and hoping that would show him his support and encouragement.

It seemed to work, but almost an hour later when Jon had finally started to fall asleep.

"Elra and Brinna," Tormund said, his voice barely above a whisper, and Jon's lips parted in surprise, "Elra was older, nine, and Brinna was five,"

Jon felt a thump in his throat as Tormund spoke in the past tense. Gods, he couldn't fucking imagine, he just wanted to hold the older man and love on him, he didn't know how to console him with something like that.

"They're gone?" Jon finally asked for confirmation, not daring to look at him.

He felt Tormund nod, and the redhead let out a deep and shaky sigh, "At Castle Black, when the Wall was breached by the Night King. I lost them there…" he whispered, and Jon knew he was crying, he could hear the shakiness in his voice, the trembles.

Jon almost whimpered, and he pressed his lips against Tormund's clothed chest. He couldn't believe that the girls had been at Caste Black all that time, at the same time he had, and he'd never met them. He had probably even seen them tens of times, but never knew that they were Tormund's children, that made his stomach churn.

"Did you get to bury them?" Jon asked softly, after the battle against the dead, days had been spent recovering bodies and performing burials and funerals, but some bodies were never found, or able to be distinguished and had to be put in mass graves. He'd barely been able to watch it, it didn't feel right, those people had fought for him, and they deserved a better send off.

"No," Tormund replied, and Jon's heart sank, "Never saw them after the last moments…"

"Could you say goodbye?" Jon inquired, and he really didn't want to upset the older man by prying, but he figured that it would be good for Tormund to talk about it, so his feelings didn't bottle up just to explode one day, where Jon would most likely be the one to face the brunt of them.

"We were running, I was carrying Brinna because she was too slow, legs too little, Elra was beside me, Brinna's mother was with us," Jon had to strain his ears to be able to hear him he spoke so quietly, "The ice started to come down… Brinna's mother, Disra, went down, something hit her in the head, and she was just gone like that… It went to fast, ice was falling everywhere along with parts of the Castle, people were being trampled, I got knocked out, dropped Brinna, ice hit Elra and then they were both on the ground unconscious," he stopped for a moment, and Jon squeezed his hip in encouragement, "I came around to Genamyr and others pulling me up, dragging me away from my girls. They were bleeding, not moving,"

"I'm so sorry, Tormund," Jon whispered, a few tears leaking from his own eyes and he wiped at them, "I've lost family, but never a child, I can't imagine what that would be like,"

Tormund sucked in a shaky breath, "I didn't want them to take me, I wanted to stay there and die with them. I was screaming as they pulled me up, trying to get back to them, punched Genamyr and tried to choke him,"

He started to sob then, Jon felt the jerks of his chest and stomach with it, and he immediately started leaking more tears too. Tormund had always been so strong, Jon had never seen him cry before, and he quickly decided that he absolutely hated it, hated it because Tormund was one of the best men Jon had ever met and he didn't deserve anything that made him cry anything other than tears of joy and laughter.

Jon shifted, he sat up and grabbed for Tormund's wrists, pulling him up too. He knew Tormund went willingly because Jon would have had no hope of pulling the heavy man up if he didn't want to. Tormund's face was wet with tears, eyes red and swollen, and his lips quivering beneath his beard. He looked so incredibly vulnerable, and Jon wondered how long it had been since he'd let someone see him like that.

Jon cupped his face as he crossed his legs, staring into the sparkly blue eyes in the dim candlelight of the cabin, "Hey," he said softly, brushing his thumbs over Tormund's cheekbones and through his beard, "Thank you for telling me, I want you to know you can tell me things. Whatever you want, I don't care, I want to listen to it, know it. Everything that's you, I want it," he spoke as firmly as he could with his slightly trembling voice, and Tormund lifted one of his hands to wipe at Jon's eyes.

"Aye," Tormund replied, sniffing loudly before wrapping his arms around Jon's lower back and then easily pulling him into his lap.

Jon sighed as he settled, holding Tormund around his chest tight and squeezing as he rested his head on his shoulder with his face buried in his neck, kissing the skin affectionately before nuzzling it. Tormund started to cry again, and Jon let him, crying along with him, sharing each other's pain.

 

* * *

 

When Jon saw the Raven soar over the camp, and then come to land on top of the post outside the congregation tent, he didn't think anything of it. Ravens from Castle Black were a regular occurrence, and when Jon made his way to the Raven and unstrapped the letter from it, he expected to find a notice from Edd that a group of rangers would be arriving to stay in the camp for a couple of days.

That appeared to not be the case as he read further and further into the letter.

_A group of rangers has found and brought back to Castle Black two children. The children were found just South in an old cabin, they claim to be members of the Free Folk who were separated when the Wall was breached by the Night King. The Maester has cleared them both as healthy, but underweight. They go by the names Brinna and Elra and say they are the daughters of Tormund and Elra, a woman called Disra, who has already passed._

_Send the Raven back immediately with the plan for collecting the girls. We can send Rangers to bring them to the clan, meet halfway, or keep them here at Castle Black to await collection._

_Best regards, Lord Commander, Eddison Tollett._

His hands started to shake where they held the parchment, and he snapped his head up, desperately searching around the clan for Tormund, but he couldn't see him anywhere. It had been a few days since Tormund had told him the story of how he'd lost his daughters, and Jon could barely believe the words that he had just read.

"Tormund!" He all but screamed when he still couldn't see Tormund, and he took many Wildlings by surprise, their heads turning toward him, worry flooding their features, "Tormund!" he screamed again, starting to jog, darting between tents in the hopes that he would find the Chief somewhere quickly.

He continued to scream his name as he ran, and other Wildlings started to join in, all seeming to understand that Jon was absolutely desperate to get his attention. Jon eventually heard Tormund scream his name back, and he started sprinting in that general direction. In his desperation, he managed to run smack into the man's chest when they turned around the same hut, and Jon let out a loud grunt of pain, bracing himself to fall backward on his ass, but Tormund caught him, large hands grasping his shoulders and keeping him on his feet.

Jon looked up and met the man's eyes, wide and full of fear as he looked down at Jon, and he felt bad for obviously scaring him, "What's the matter, my little crow?" Tormund asked him, sounding panicked and Jon panted slightly to get his breath back.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "A letter from Edd," he said and wriggled out of Tormund's grasp, and he held the piece of parchment out to him, "You need to read it,"

Tormund frowned, but took the letter from him and unfolded it, looking at Jon a moment longer before he started to read. Jon's stomach churned as he watched him read, and he saw the exact moment Tormund got to the important part of the letter, saw his eyes widen, his lips part and the tears that filled his eyes.

Tormund met his gaze again finally, "How long ago did this get here?" he asked, voice shaking, and Jon could almost feel the curiosity radiating off of everyone else surrounding them.

"Just now," Jon answered, and he took a step closer to the man, and he took the letter, holding it out behind him toward the general direction of where Genamyr was standing, and he felt the man take it from his hands. Jon took Tormund's hands in his own and squeezed them, going up on his tippy toes so that he was closer to his face, "They're alive Tormund, the girls are alive,"

Tormund stared at him, mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish, shock littering his face before he finally turned to the rest of the clan, "I need three men!" he yelled, meeting Jon's eyes again, and Jon nodded.

Tormund didn't even need to ask, of course, Jon would go with him.


	9. Chapter 9

They'd been traveling for a week now and would arrive at Castle Black by nightfall if the weather was kind to them, no harsh blizzards or storms that prevented them from continuing on.

Tormund was on edge, had been ever since Jon had told him about the letter from Castle Black that had confirmed that his daughters were alive, contrary to what he had believed since the Wall was breached.

Tormund had been working everyone hard, and Jon was on the bridge of not being able to keep up. His ankle was still in the late processes of recovering since he'd dislocated it, and the hours they spent from dawn to dusk in the saddle were having a toll on it. It could be worse, Tormund and Jon were the only ones with horses, he could be walking the whole way like Genamyr, and Norik had too. Genamyr and Norik had spent the first couple of days arguing non-stop, their dislike for each other quite clear, the only thing they did like about each other was their loyalty to Tormund. After one particularly long day, the two men had been fighting over how to build the fire and Tormund had yelled at them for almost ten minutes, and since then there had been no spats.

"How are you feeling?" Jon asked Tormund softly, the older man riding beside him. Ghost was on Jon's other side, still happy despite how exhausted he must be. Tormund had been rather unaffectionate and distant toward Jon the past couple of days, and he was trying best not to take offense and understand why, but it was quite hard.

Tormund sighed heavily, eyes remaining ahead on the snowy forest they were making their way through, "I don't know," He answered, "I haven't seen them in so long… I don't know what they're like now, I don't know what they've been through. They could be furious with me, thinking I abandoned them,"

"Tormund, you're their father," Jon said softly, and he pushed his horse closer to Tormund's, so he could reach over and squeeze his thigh, "They might be upset, but they also may not be, and if they are, they won't be for long. They would have missed you just as much as you missed them,"

"I hope that's the case," Tormund huffed, finally looking at Jon, even if it was just for a moment, "Elra's always been a bit of a distant girl, quiet, keeps to herself, I fear that will be worse now that her mother is gone. Brinna is the opposite really, cheerful and sweet to everyone, so if she's quiet you know something's wrong," he smiled softly as he spoke of his daughters, and Jon couldn't wait for the man to be reunited with them.

"I can't wait to meet them, they do sound wonderful," Jon replied, his hand still on Tormund's thigh. He took a mental note that from what Tormund had said, the two girls appeared to have different mothers, but he figured that was now was not the time to bring that up.

"I think Elra will like you actually, you both have the quiet brooding thing,"

"I don't brood,"

"Disagree,"

Jon couldn't stop the light smirk from spreading on his lips, and he gave Tormund's thigh one last squeeze and let it go as he grasped his reins again. He silently prayed to the gods to let the weather be good to them, and Tormund could see his babies again. Jon could only imagine the ache he must feel at knowing they're so close, but not being able to hold them yet.

The gods seemed to listen.

 

* * *

 

 

When they reached the end of the haunted forest, the only thing left between them and Castle Black was the long plain of snow. Tormund immediately broke into a gallop across the white expanse to reach the gate as fast as he could. Jon didn't do the same, he didn't feel comfortable with leaving Genamyr and Norik to walk the rest of the way on their own, even though the White Walkers were long gone, he still couldn't get over that voice in the back of his mind that told him to remain careful.

The gate started to go up just before Tormund reached it, and Jon watched as he and his horse's now small figure disappeared inside.

"Gods," Genamyr started from where he walked just beside him, "I hope this isn't some major fuck up misunderstanding where the girls aren't really there. He wouldn't be able to handle losing them again, it nearly killed him the first time,"

Jon felt sick just at the thought of it, "It has to be them," Jon replied, swallowing thickly around the lump in his stomach, "They go by the names of Tormund's daughters and knew Elra's mother, how she died,"

"Oh Disra," Norik said, slightly behind Jon, more tired out than Genamyr was, "I haven't thought of her in a while, she was a good woman,"

"Were she and Tormund married, or together? Something like that?" Jon asked after being quiet for a moment, noticing that a brother had arrived at the gate and was waiting for them, a torch in his hand.

"No," Norik replied, "They just liked to share a bed together, if you know what I mean, but were too friendly for more. They were good parents to Elra, and that girl could be tough, so they did well,"

"What about Brinna?" Jon then asked, and he knew he was being nosy, but he couldn't help himself, he wanted to know more about the girls before he met them.

"Her mother was another," Genamyr said, his exhaustion starting to show as he yawned heavily into his arm, "She, Vigda, and Tormund were kind of together but grew apart when she got pregnant. She didn't survive the birth, Tormund raised Brinna by himself,"

"That's tragic, for both girls to have lost their mothers," Jon said, frowning deeply because he knew how it felt to lose parents, and he hated that two little girls felt what he had felt when he first learned of his father's execution.

Genamyr grunted, seeming angry as he glared down at the snow he had to trudge through, "Not as bad for Brinna because she didn't know her, but yes, it would have been very hard on Elra,"

"Especially since she didn't have Tormund, and the pair were on their own," Norik chimed in, and then proceeded to greet the brother of the Night's Watch who they were now only within a few meters of.

He greeted them back, he was only young, and he spent several moments looking at Jon in a way that was almost awe, and Ghost in terror before he finally cleared his throat and then began to lead them through the tunnels to Castle Black.

When they reached the courtyard of the Castle, Jon dismounted his horse, and after being almost tackled into a hug by Edd, his eyes fell on the three redheads on the ground. While Edd was busy sat on the cold ground being crawled over and licked by Ghost, Jon watched the little family.

Tormund was sitting, and he had two girls tucked up in his lap, still seeming to be in their reunion embrace. Both girls were barely visible, being covered in large coats and pelts, Jon knew that Edd would have been extra careful to keep them warm, children being much more vulnerable to this harsh weather.

Jon smiled at the sight of them, and he could hear soft sobs from one of the girls.

"There's enough room for Tormund in the chamber they've been staying in, I want the lot of you to take a couple of days rest before you head back out," Edd started, Ghost finally letting him stand up again. He suited the role of Lord Commander so well, it made Jon proud, "Another room has already been set up for the other three of you,"

Jon swallowed a little, Edd didn't know that he and Tormund were a couple. As a matter of fact, nobody except for their Free Folk clan did. He realized that his siblings probably deserved to know who he'd paired himself up with and that he'd ditched the Night's Watch entirely and was now a Wildling. Well, Bran, of course, would already know, but it wouldn't be something he'd tell people. Jon had a letter from both Sansa and Bran sitting in his and Tormund's cabin back at the village, they'd been sent to Castle Black, but they'd forwarded them. Jon hadn't worked up the courage to reply back to them yet.

"Thank you, Edd," Jon finally said, swallowing down his nerves and slapping his friend on the shoulder, "We'll leave Tormund, and the girls be for a little while, we'll sort the horses and then ourselves," he told him, earning agreeing nods from Genamyr and Norik.

"Join us for dinner?" Edd asked, nodding and running his hands through Ghost's fur, the wolf still leaning against his side.

"Of course," Jon replied, and they shared another brief hug before Jon cast a final glance at Tormund and the girls before he gathered the reins of Argo, Genamyr doing the same with Hrenna, who Tormund had just left standing in the courtyard, and Norik followed them to the stables.

"It's definitely them," Norik said once they reached the stable, sliding the door closed behind them when they were all inside, keeping unwanted ears.

Genamyr hummed, and Jon smirked a little as he realized the pair was finally too exhausted to fight with each other. Argo and Hrenna picked up a little at the sight of the other horses who poked their heads from their stalls but calmed quickly when they were tied in front of buckets of water. They didn't hesitate in sticking their noses into the buckets and drinking deeply as Jon and Genamyr removed their tack, and Norik collected spare coats from the tack room for them. Ghost collapsed down on top of some hay bales.

"Will you stay with Tormund or us tonight?" Genamyr asked as he ran a brush over Hrenna's coat.

Jon shrugged, working on the tangles of Argo's thick black tail, "I don't know. I'd like to stay with him, but he might like time alone with Elra and Brinna, or not to tell them that we're together," he replied.

"Claimed each other," Norik corrected him, and Jon huffed, he kept forgetting that 'together' wasn't a term used much beyond the wall, it was either claimed to each other or married to each other or fucking each other.

"Right, claimed each other," Jon grunted, and then licked his lips, "Speaking of which, neither of you is to mention to anyone here about Tormund and I. The only people who know are the clan and I'd like to keep it that way, at least for a little longer,"

"Of course," Genamyr replied, smiling over Hrenna's back, "Not our place to tell people, and I think Tormund would break some bones if people found out before you wanted them too,"

Jon smirked a little, running his hand over Argo's soft coat, "Well, good," he murmured.

It didn't take them long to finish with the horses after that; they threw their coats on to keep them warm and then placed them in stalls beside each other. After feeding them and filling the water buckets, stirring awake a grumpy and unwilling Ghost, they left the stables and instead found the room that had been allocated to them. They threw some extra wood on the fire, and then all collapsed down onto the bed with the intentions of sleeping until dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

"Where are Tormund and the girls?" Jon asked as he sat down beside Edd, his pot of stew clattering against the wooden surface of the table, and Genamyr and Norik quickly joined them with their own large portions.

"They went to their chamber I believe, I'll have someone take them supper soon," Edd replied around a mouthful of his own food and lifting his cup of wine.

Jon shook his head, "No, I'll do it once I've finished here," he replied, and willed his cheeks not to heat up because Edd was usually quite an observant person and may be able to see if Jon was acting strange at the mention of Tormund.

"Alright, the room they're in is the one Sam, Gilly, and little Sam used to stay in,"

Jon let out a little breath of relief and nodded his understanding, and then, after being re-energized from their nap, Genamyr and Norik began to argue about something ridiculous and unimportant.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon grunted as he raised his fist to knock on the heavy wooden door, trying his best not to drop the tray of food he was holding as he did. He managed to succeed, only to jump when Tormund shouted from the other side of the door. He didn't sound happy that he was being interrupted, which was fair enough.

"What?!"

"It's me!" Jon called back, his tone much gentler. He waited for several moments, anticipating for a reply, but instead, the door was unlatched and then pulled open, revealing Tormund, who was staring down at him with a small frown, "I brought dinner for you and the girls,"

Tormund nodded finally and stepped aside for Jon to enter the chamber. He quickly did so and sat the tray down on the small dining table before looking around the room, he didn't see the girls anywhere, but the door to the small bathroom was closed, so Jon guessed that they would be in there bathing.

"Would you serve it out?" Tormund asked, and Jon almost jumped when he felt the man's hand on his lower back, it had been a good couple of days since Tormund had touched him without Jon being the one to initiate it first.

"Sure," Jon replied, looking up at his partner, just making out the blue of his eyes in the dim light, and he so badly wanted to kiss him, to tell him how happy he was for him, but Tormund moved away before he could. Tormund disappeared into the bathroom, and Jon sighed softly as he set out the three bowls and cups for water, before scooping the stew into the pots, leaving the basket of bread rolls in the table for them to take as they pleased.

He felt awkward, and with nothing else to do, he walked a couple of steps to the fire and stood with his back to it, sighing softly at the warmth that spread over him. It felt nice to be indoors after being on the move in the freezing cold for the past week. When the bathroom door finally opened, Jon got his first real look at the Giantsbane children.

Elra came out first, her hair tied up in some sort of messy knot and she was wearing warm sleep clothes. She barely looked at Jon as she crossed the room and sat at the dining table, not waiting for her father and sibling before she started to eat. Then came Tormund and Brinna, the little girl in his arms, sat on his hip and looking quite sleepy. She appeared to have just had a bath, her hair still slightly damp, and Jon assumed that's what Tormund and Elra had been doing when he arrived.

"Sit with you, papa!" Brinna almost screamed as Tormund went to sit her down on one of the chairs, he just sighed and sat in the chair himself, setting her on his lap. Brinna seemed happy with that and dug right into the stew in front of her with her hands. Jon caught the small smirk on Tormund's face as she did, and then their eyes locked, "Elra, Brinna, you both remember Jon, don't you? I know you never met him, but you saw him plenty,"

Brinna nodded, "King!" She exclaimed, spitting some stew out in front of her that Elra glared at her for, and Tormund pulled the other bowl closer and attempted to eat some himself.

"No, Brinna, I'm not the King anymore. My brother is the King, and my sister is Queen," Jon replied, smiling at her because she really was quite adorable, despite not looking like Tormund.

"Oh," She replied, frowning a little, and then deciding she was more interested in her food and she dug into it again.

It was quiet for a moment, and then Jon was suddenly being stared at by the older girl, her eyes digging right into his own, "Where's your wolf?" she asked, and Jon immediately caught on that she tried to do the stoic tough act but couldn't stop her childlike wonder toward a tamed Direwolf.

"He's asleep," Jon replied, which was true, the beast was curled up in front of the fire in the room he had been given with Genamyr and Norik, who, as he left with the dinner for Tormund and the girls, had told him they were going to bed.

Tormund rumbled, one of his arms around his daughter's tummy, "He's exhausted, needs his rest. You can both meet him tomorrow," he told the girls. Jon grinned at the excitement of the girls wanting to meet his wolf, "Aren't you eating?" Tormund then asked, frowning beneath his beard as he attempted to stop Brinna from getting food everywhere.

Jon shook his head, "No, I ate with the others," he replied softly, and Tormund nodded before continuing to feed himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon's heart could have melted as he watched Tormund kiss his girls' head's and wrap the blankets and pelts around them tighter. They were both fast asleep, tucked up in the one bed together with Elra holding her sister protectively. Tormund was so incredibly gentle with them and clearly loved them so much.

"I can go," Jon whispered as Tormund stood straight again.

Tormund faced him then, and shook his head, "No, stay," he murmured.

Jon licked his lips and swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "Okay," he replied and held out his hand, Tormund took it and led him to the other bed.

They got beneath the covers and curled up together, Tormund's protective arms around Jon, and his gaze on his daughters.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to getting 10,000 hits on this, which is amazing!!

It felt like Jon had only just fallen asleep when he found himself awake again. There was a heavyweight on top of him, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to realize that it was Tormund's arm over his stomach. He tilted his head then and found that the reason of his awakening was the little girl that had joined them on the bed. Brinna was sitting half on top of Tormund, pulling at his hair and trying to get him to wake up.

"Papa, up now," She told her father, wisps of hair falling out from whatever knot her hair had been put up in to sleep.

Jon managed to sit up slightly, and he jabbed at Tormund's sides, knowing that he was ticklish, and it successfully woke him.

Tormund groaned and sounded like he was about to snap at Jon for waking him, but then realized the child sat on his chest, "Brinna, what's the matter, love?" he asked, sitting up.

"Someone was knockin' on the door," Brinna replied, and she spent several moments staring at Jon with a small frown before she focused on her father again.

Jon felt a pang in his stomach and looked to the heavy wooden door, where sure enough, another knock sounded from. Jon cursed under his breath and sat up from the bed, tossing the covers from his body and rushing into the small bathroom, knowing that Tormund and Brinna, and also Elra who was sat up in her bed.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and huffed, and while he hated to think that his actions had just upset Tormund, whoever at the door may not be Norik or Genamyr, and Jon wasn't ready for any of the brothers to find out what he and Tormund were.

He stayed quiet, listening as he heard Tormund get up and open the door. The voices were muffled, but Jon knew that it wasn't someone that he was familiar with, so he was glad that he'd made the right decision in hiding, even if it made him feel pathetic.

After only a couple of minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door, followed by Tormund's voice, "Come out,"

Jon did as he said, opening the door and searching the face of the man that stood in front of him, looking for any sign of disappointment, "Sorry, I just-"

Tormund cut him off, shaking his head, "Don't," he said, either not having a problem with it, but the more likely option was that he simply didn't have the energy to talk with Jon and his internalized homophobia.

Jon forced a smile at him, "Who was it?" he asked, reaching out and squeeze his waist.

"Brother bringing breakfast," Tormund replied, stepping to the side and placing a hand on Jon's lower back, leading him over to the small table where they had eaten dinner the previous night. Elra and Brinna were already sat down, Brinna enthusiastically spooning porridge into her mouth while Elra didn't seem so enthusiastic.

Jon sat down at the seat beside Brinna and Tormund opposite him. He wasn't hungry, and the porridge in front of him didn't seem at all appealing, but Jon picked up his spoon and began to eat anyway.

"What was with the hiding?"

Elra, of course, was the one to ask the question, and when Jon looked up, he found her staring across the table at him; her brows pulled together in a frown.

"Elra," Tormund warned her softly, knowing that Jon wouldn't be entirely sure how to answer the question.

"I want to know," Elra repeated, glaring at her father as she chewed at the inside of her cheek.

Jon stared down at his porridge, deciding to let Tormund take this one.

"Things are different South of the wall," Tormund started, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair as he tried to find the words to explain Westeros homophobia to his daughter, "The people here don't know that Jon and I are together,"

"Why not?" Elra continued, obviously not wanting to give up.

"Because men being together is not a common, or approved of thing here," Tormund told her, sharing a look with Jon, which made Jon's cheeks flush softly.

Elra screwed up her face, "Well, that's horse shit," she grunted.

Jon was surprised by her vulgar language at a young age, but Tormund didn't seem bothered by it, "Yes, it is," Tormund even said.

The conversation dwindled off that topic then, with Brinna making a mess of herself with her porridge and asking questions about the new village. Jon even chimed in with answers to the questions, allowing Tormund a rest to manage to chew and swallow some of his own food before being bombarded.

After breakfast, Jon left the small quarters, pressing a kiss to Tormund's head from where he was braiding Brinna's hair, and saying goodbye to both girls before he left. He needed to make up with some excuse as to why he wasn't in his designated quarters the previous night if one of the brothers had done the same with Tormund and the girls and taken breakfast there. He knew that he could tell Edd the truth without any concerns, but he wasn't ready for that.

He'd know when he was ready to tell people beyond the Free Folk, and he hoped that Tormund could continue to be patient until that time.

 

* * *

 

 

They only stayed that one night at Castle Black before everyone was eager to head off again. Genamyr wanted to get back as Anelda was approaching the final months of her pregnancy, and he didn't like being away from her. Jon had to agree, Anelda was probably his best friend, and he didn't like being away from her either.

Edd was kind enough to gift them all with horses to make the journey home, all except for Brinna who Elra had told Tormund was not good enough of a rider to have a horse to herself. Tormund had taken her word for it because after all, it had been only a few months shy of a year since he'd seen the girls, and he knew that Elra had been like a parent to his youngest girl.

It made Jon sad for Tormund, he saw how the man often tried to observe the dynamic between the two girls, and that he had to get to know them all over again after all the trauma that they had been through since the Wall had been breached.

"How do they seem to you?" Jon asked Tormund softly as they rode side by side, Genamyr and Norik were leading the way, and Elra and Brinna were on a shared horse just behind them, with Ghost trotting along beside them.

Tormund huffed, "Different," he murmured, not meeting Jon's eyes as he continued to look ahead at the girls, "Elra's always been quiet, but she's even worse now it seems. I don't know, I barely spent any time with them yet. It's like they need to open up to me again,"

"That's a given," Jon said softly, knowing that this was a private conversation that the girls weren't meant to be hearing, "It's been a long time, and they've been through a lot. Hells, they might still be in shock that they have you back again,"

Tormund nodded, "That's a good point," he said, finally looking over at Jon and it almost broke Jon's heart. He just looked so tired, and scared almost, scared of the unknowing of what had really happened to his daughters, and if his relationship with them would ever be the same again.

"I believe that things just need some time, Tormund," Jon told him, reaching over and taking Tormund's hand from where it was resting against his thigh. He gave it a tight squeeze and then leaned down to kiss it over the gloves he was wearing, "I want to help as much as I can. I can take on some of your responsibilities, so you can have some time alone with them, or I can spend a night or two elsewhere. Please, just let me know,"

Tormund stared back at him, and he sighed as he shook his head, the slightest smile quirking at his lips beneath his beard, "I don't deserve you, at all," he whispered.

Jon frowned and quickly shook his head, bringing Argo to a stop, and Tormund did the same with Hrenna, "Of course you do," he whispered, grabbing Tormund by the back of his neck, "And I like to think that after all the shit I've been through, that I might deserve you too,"

Tormund's smile widened slightly, and he made the step to press their lips together. Jon hummed softly because Tormund's lips were cold, but his tongue was warm, and just everything about him was so inviting. Jon kissed him deeper, tugging at his hair slightly before finally, they broke their kiss.

"Things will be okay," Jon murmured, pecking his nose before sitting straight in his saddle again, and both he and Tormund moved the horses into a walk again.

"I really do hope so, my little crow," Tormund said, and he didn't sound entirely convinced yet. Jon just hoped that he would be right.

 

* * *

 

 

Jon sighed heavily as he was finally brought into the comfort of his and Tormund's, and now the Elra and Brinna's cabin. Bringing the girls back to the village had been quite an event, Free Folk came at them from all sides, the girls being covered in hugs and kisses, tears from all sides as they were reunited with who they loved.

Brinna had all but passed out from all the attention and was currently laid out on Jon and Tormund's bed as Tormund tried to get the second room of their cabin sorted for the girls. Elra had disappeared into the small bathroom after Jon had finished preparing a bath for her. Jon was working on the fire and playing with Ghost, as he'd tried to help Tormund, but the man had made it quite clear that he didn't want it, being too fussy.

When Tormund finally deemed the room prepared enough, Jon couldn't help smiling as he watched Tormund gently wake Brinna and dress her in more appropriate sleep clothes, as she leaned against his chest like dead weight. She really was an adorable little girl and had no complaints as Tormund lifted her and then carried her into the room.

Jon watched from the doorway of the room as Tormund laid her down on one of the bedrolls and proceeded to tuck her in and kiss her head before whispering something to her that Jon couldn't hear, before joining Jon back out in the main room of the cabin.

"I'm so glad to be back here," Jon whispered, reaching for Tormund and pulling him closer by his hips.

Tormund smiled down at him, running his hands up and down Jon's back, "So am I," he murmured, "We get to be together out here, don't we?"

Jon frowned a little, "It's not like we suddenly split when we were at Castle Black,"

"So, you just hid in the bathroom because you felt like it then?" Tormund asked, raising an eyebrow at him, and he sounded playful and joking, but serious at the same time, which was definitely concerning to Jon.

Jon shook his head and went to take a step back, but Tormund's stronghold kept him against him, "That's not fair. You know, you say you're understanding of how I grew up, that it's different for me, yet you say shit like that," and he knows that Tormund hasn't been himself for the past couple of weeks, and while he's been trying his best to be respectful of that, he can feel his tether wearing thin.

"Please, can we not argue about this now," Tormund sighed, stepping away himself then and rubbed his palm over his beard covered jaw.

Jon almost scowled, "You brought it up, Tormund," he reminded him.

What was probably the beginning of an argument, was broken up by the bathroom door opening and Elra walking through it. She looked between the two them, a small frown on her lips and her eyes curious.

"I'm heading to sleep," She said, petting Ghost as she passed him and proceeding to enter the bedroom.

Tormund followed after her, and Jon swore to himself as he changed quickly and then crawled into his and Tormund's bed. The exhaustion that he'd buried down promptly rose again, and he was almost asleep in minutes, only to be stirred awake again by Tormund crawling into the bed behind him and wrapping an arm over his stomach.

"You're not being fair, Tormund," Jon whispered as he reached for Tormund's hand, threading his fingers through it.

Tormund sighed heavily as he nuzzled against the back of his neck, and Jon could almost feel the stress oozing off him, "I'm sorry," he told him, and he genuinely sounded like it too.

Jon could only hope that things would start going back to normal now that Tormund had his girls again, knowing that they were safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos & comments are loved & inspire me to keep writing!
> 
> Check out my tumblr where I talk about my ships, reblog content, post updates, and have an always open for requests ask box!  
> \- @iiloulouii


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